Rhythm Divine
by Ryrahd
Summary: ExT.Eriol is the dull and downright boring reporter. Tomoyo is a free and passionate dancer. Could something possibly develop between them?
1. Charleston

A/N: This fic has been driving me insane for the past couple of months, so I decided to yield to temptation (and conqueror procrastination once and for all..) And actually write it. This fic is rather serious (or will be when I'm done with it) and touches subjects that are personally dear to me. Now, your role in this, is to tell me whether I should continue with this monstrosity or just not waste my time (though I would write it anyway, just not post it ^^). Also, this is unedited version, so pardon any spelling and/or grammar mistakes, I promise I'll correct those soon. 

Disclaimer: Listen all you lawyers and executive people with a whole lot more money than I, I say this only once (for this fic, anyway) I own nothing of the characters (official,) they belong to the wonderful people of CLAMP, but I do however own the plot and if you dare even so much as to file one law suit, I promise, I'll set my cat on you – she bites =^__^=

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Rhythm Divine

Chapter 1: Charleston

"Please have a seat, Mr. Hiiragizawa."

Came the drone voice of the middle-aged secretary, which just so happen to grate on my nerves and was followed by a careless gesture toward the row of seats along the far wall. She reminded me of a vulture, or some other ugly bird, perched atop her desk and looking down disapprovingly at everyone who happened to catch her eye. Sighing, I complied with the lady's request, moving toward the worn out chairs. I glanced at the interior of the room, unconsciously clutching my brief case closer to my chest. She gave me the feeling of very unpleasant landlady, though why, I had no clue. 

Shifting my feet uncomfortably on the cheep linoleum, I glanced at the other occupants of the dingy waiting room. To my right, half-sprawled on a leather upholstered chair, was a skinny man. I noted with a small feeling of distaste the man's yellowed and saggy skin and hat that pooled over his eyes. To my left, a small coffee table littered with outdated magazines and paper cups separated me and a middle-aged woman with a fur collar. She reminded me of an ill-tempered Schnauzer. In fact, if I looked at her from a certain light, I was sure I could see floppy cheeks and chin emerge. 

Weird people, I thought with a mental shrug and turned my attention to the screened window. I had met quite a large amount of strange people during my short life. Mostly because the annual juggling of jobs permitted me to see the various odd balls and weirdoes. My current occupation, a writer for the local newspaper, the Gazette du Arles (A/N: not a real newspaper, I think...), was just a half-hearted excuse to meet as many strange people as possible without actually admitting it to anyone. In truth, I thought it was really brave of them, though just a bit outdated, to show off their weirdness; I would never dare to do such a thing.

"Mr. Hiiragizawa?"

The raspy voice of the secretary broke the pattern of my musings and he was forced to turn away from the less than cheery scenery beyond the dusty glass. 

"Mr. Strorm will see you now."

I hastily got up from his seat, all too eager to be rid of the less than pleasant company, and headed for my boss' office. As I walked, I could feel the secretary's eyes travelling along my back, and I involuntarily shivered. Sometimes, the stares I got from the middle-aged woman made me feel like a medium-to-well done steak; I did _not_ like the feeling at all. "Perverted old crone" came to my mind then, but I pushed it to the back of his head with an imperceptible snort. I decided to avoid her from thence on. 

Once I reached the door to my boss' office, I felt a need to release a breath that somehow managed to jam itself in my throat. Having checked that all my gears in perfect working condition, I knocked on the door, listening carefully for signs of life beyond the heavy wood. No sound. I knocked a couple of times, and even called out to the man supposedly inside, though not loud enough for the people in the waiting room to hear (otherwise, they'd think I was some sort of a mental case). Signing, I was beginning to head back toward the lecherous secretary, when the door swung open. 

I glanced around, seeing no one about, and peered in the now exposed room. There was, indeed, nobody there. How could that be, though? Surely invisible bosses did not give out appointments with their employees. My boss had a tendency to be in a bad mood – all the time. I wouldn't be surprised if I suddenly found missiles and grenades were thrown my way. I sighed. I would just have to face the risks and venture into the secret world of my boss ' office. Steeling my nerves (brave in the face of foes), I pushed at the open door and walked in. No daggers went sailing for my head and I made the treacherous path through the office just a bit more relaxed. 

After sitting idle in the weather beaten chair (how come my boss' chair was brand spanking new?) for the next ten to fifteen minutes, I began to feel a bit restless. I drummed my fingers irritably on the desk, scanning the small office. The ceiling fan was on – surprising, that, considering it was the middle of November – and was sending the litter on the floor levitating around the room. The house plant that dominated the western corner was overgrown and browning with dehydration. The filing cabinets were left open, the papers spilling in masses. I scrunched my face in disgust; my boss was an anthropomorphized swine. 

Speaking of the pig, my boss chose that moment to amble in, finally. He walked with self-imposed importance, I noticed. He opened the dusk caked window and threw his cigarette to the world below, he then dumped a stack of untidy papers into the trash and I suddenly understood why the secretary had a tendency to bite ones head off. Plopping into the overstuffed chair, the swine-man shifted the litter on his desk, looking for his cup of coffee. I waited with barely controlled anticipation as the man took a sip of the dark liquid. I nearly burst at the edges trying to contain my mirth as I saw my boss scrunch up his pudgy face and spit out the stale beverage. 

I waited patiently for the man to settle down; it seemed as if Mr. Strorm had a perennial stick up his unmentionable and was trying to get it out with as little movement as possible. My boss continued to fuss over something or other on his desk, decidedly ignoring me. I knew he hated my guts, but believe me, the favour was returned ten folds. I needed the job though, more for the experience than the money. 

I wanted to get into politics one day, become an advisor or even minister; change the world perhaps. Politics is a difficult field to get into, however. You have to have an individual philosophy, one by which you made all your decisions, as well as a tremendous amount of guts and ruthlessness. The world of the politicians is very cruel and unscrupulous, you cannot allow anyone to have even one point over you, or you'll be out of the game. You had to keep your secrets and ideas to yourself, even friends were not dependable when politics came about. In the end, even your best friend would betray you, and then you would have nothing but your battered pride. It s a difficult field to choose, but I love the challenge of it and the prospect of having power – the ability to influence and change something. 

"Ahem," I "coughed" when my foot was beginning to fall asleep. 

My boss looked up from the paper he was holding – upside down! – and glanced from atop his bulbous nose. "Is there anything you want, Hiiragizawa?"

I cringed at the sound; I hate the way he pronounces my name, makes me feel like dirt. Heh. As if _he_ is any better. "Yes. I was told you needed to discuss something with me...?" 

He looked at me again, and I could feel the contempt seeping from his buggy eyes. There was no love lost there, and for a second I wondered if I was "let go because of financial difficulties". I erased that thought with a mental shrug; I am his most valuable employee, he would not dare to fire me. 

"Oh, yeee–s," the Swine-man said in his slightly nasal voice, purposely elongating the words, as if I was mentally challenged and could not for the life of me comprehend the words. "There is a new assignment for you, a one-on-one case..."

I stopped paying attention after he said those magic words. In truth, the company that sponsored this newspaper was, indeed, in financial trouble. As a result, there was a large amount of layoffs and interviews with the elite came more and more infrequently. I felt as if I was slowly rotting from lack of activity. Sure I had my University thesis, bills, prating friends and family to think about, but sending perfectly skilled journalists to cover the importance of ponds was just ridiculous. Cruel and unusual punishment to those who have and know how to use their intellects, I tell you. 

"I realize that you are still young and your level of expertise is...limited..." I tuned into what my boss was saying just in time to hear that last sentiment. I felt blood rush to my ears. Was he referring to _me_ or himself? Hah! What gull he had! "But you are the best fitted for the job."

He then handed me a manila folder from somewhere in the mountain of trash, and I noticed (with no small amount of disgust) smudged food bits and a coffee ring. I glanced at my name written in chicken letters, noting that it still managed to be misspelled even after a year of working for this company. As I skimmed through the contents of the folder, I noticed that my boss was trying to stifle snorts and other unpleasant sounds. It was then that I actually started paying attention to the sheet in my hand. By the time I've read to the last word of the last sentence, I could feel my eyes bulging to almost unnatural proportions. 

"Is anything the matter, Hiiragizawa?" Mr. Strorm asked after seeing my initial reaction, his voice seeming too sugary for my taste. 

I gritted my teeth and forced out a polite reply, "No, of course not. I'm just a bit confused concerning the assignment." 

The said assignment was to interview the belle of Arles and the local celebrity, Daidouji Tomoyo. Like myself, Daidouji-san was Japanese by birthright. She was currently taking the local, and partly national, worlds by a storm. I've heard her being referred to as "Anna Pavlova of the modern and the pop-cultured". Rumours had it that she was ambiguously talented in the visual and performing arts as well as exotically beautiful. I can just imagine what the interview would be like with _her_. To my experience, people like this Daidouji-san were conceited and quite narcissistic. I hated the thought of it, hated the concept of associating my self with somebody like her. I've met her type; they are the artistic know-it-alls, wearing outdated clothes and trying to revolutionize the world with silly ideologies. Nonsense, really.

"What is so confusing about it? Is it not written out in plain, black and white English?" My boss interrupted my wave of thinking; his comment made me feel stupid and I flushed in anger and subtly bit my lip. "All you have to do is show up for the interview, ask a bunch of nonsense questions, and make the broad appear a national hero or something in the final product."

Besides being a slob, a pig, and a jerk, my boss was also a teensy bit sexist, but I suppressed the urge to smack him upside the head. 

I scowled at the manila folder still clutched in my hands. "That's perfectly understandable. I will do my best for this special occasion." 

"Won't you, boy, won't you..." 

I heard my boss saying quietly before I closed the door on my way out of the cramped office. As I passed the lecherous secretary and the two weirdoes, my mood was beginning to sag (maybe even permanently) and all I wanted was to get out of the stuffy building into the confines of my own tiny apartment. Great, just hunky-dory great! I had boss who was just bouncing up and down with the anticipation of me screwing up so he could finally get rid of me, and a Prima Donna to interview. And as if my day couldn't get any better, the clouds drew together and began spilling their contents onto my head. I glared at the puddles; why weren't there any reliable weathermen these days? How hard was it to tell that it was going to rain that day? Yeesh, I hate Mondays.

(tbc)

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	2. Foxtrot

A/N: You asked for it, I delivered. I'm glad to know that people like this story (so far that is). I'll try to keep up the standards. Me? Good at first POV? I'm rather shocked, but thanks anyway. Oh, I forgot to mention this in the last chapter, this story takes place in Arles, France (one of my favourite cities) sometime in mid November. Eriol and the gang are about twenty. Enjoy!

(Not) Selfless Advertisement: I'm offering my services as beta. If you are interested, e-mail me or just review. Warning, though, I ain't no good at English -__-'

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Chapter 2: Foxtrot 

At first there was darkness, one that was both cold and hot at the same time. The next thing I knew, the obscurity was clearing way like a gigantic curtain, revealing a lighted stage. I wearily made my way toward it, knowing before hand that I was having a nightmare but not able to wake up. The lights turned their attention on me, and I was suddenly on the stage, looking out. The panic level rose, and I wanted to dash off, away from the blinding lights, but my feet were suddenly bolted to the floor. I heard a commotion from somewhere; I turned and nearly screamed. A mob of brightly colored figures was hurtling my way, like the toy projectiles I used to play with as a kid. I realised that the flashing hues were parts of over-exaggerated costumes and make-up, and that made me even more afraid. Before I could even attempt to dash from my spot, the legion of performers was surrounding me, pawing my clothes and face, flaunting their crimson lips and fake eyelashes at me. I wanted to scream, to wake up, but I found a piece of something lodged in my throat. I tried to fight them, hitting thin air where their bodies were supposed to be. They surrounded me...

As I thrashed around in my place, I suddenly discovered that my captors were my own sheets and that thing stuck in my throat...? Guess what _that_ was.. No, it was my pillow. Sighing, I untangled myself from the stronghold and fell back into the comforter. I glanced at my watch and remembered that I dislocated it sometime during last night. At the mention of previous evening, I groaned aloud and pushed my head deeper into the pillow. 

Last night, as I was preparing for my routine shower, my best bud, Syaoran, showed up on my doorstep, begging me for a favour. The next thing I know, I was being dragged to a party a certain whatever-his-name was having. I don't remember the details, but I can guess the end result wasn't pretty, thus the migraine that was now beginning to build in my head. I don't even remember I got home and into my bed. 

I heard a faint scratching sound beyond my bedroom door, and released another groan. My cat, Spinel Sun – don't ask what truck decided to hit me when I named him – was apparently very awake and demanding food. I wondered for a second for how long I've slept, but that wasn't my top priority at the moment. 

Scratch.

"Im coming!" This was followed by a meow. I wearily got off the bed, shivering slightly at the cold that met my bare skin and swaying on my feet from momentary dizziness. The wretched cat began meowing and scratching with more fervour, grating on my headache. 

"Sometimes, I think you hate me," I said to him after I opened the door, letting him in. He entwined himself around my feet – how he managed that, I have no idea – and looked up at me with big, blue cat-y eyes. "What do you always want from me? Do I not feet you? Smother you? Give you a litter box?"

Meow. 

"You could at least show _some_ gratitude."

I proceed to the small kitchen, noting that I forgot to wash the dishes from yesterday. _What_? It's only two plates and a glass; I don't live in a pigsty, you know. Spinel Sun trailed after me, tail in the air and eyes on the fridge. After I delivered his breakfast – Friskies, the gourmand's choice – I went in search of my own meal. Sometime later, coffee mug in one hand and bagel in the other, I plopped down on the couch. 

Aa.. Fridays. The best days of the week (besides the weekends). It was quarter to ten and I had classes in the evening, so the morning was totally free and mine for enjoying. I was planning to spend the rest of my free time just watching TV, maybe go out and see an early show with Syaoran or Yamazaki. As I was surfing though the channels, looking for anything that struck my fancy, I stumbled upon an advertisement for a Broadway show and I nearly spit my coffee out. I completely forgot about the interview! I was supposed to meet that dancer-lady at nine o'clock at Chez Pierre's! That Daidouji something-or-other was gonna have a hissy fit! 

I quickly dashed from one part of the apartment to another, cussing under my breath and ignoring the new coffee stain on my couch and my cat that was giving me weird glances. After sparing a quick shower, I hastily dressed in a black button-up shirt and casual pants – gotta leave some sort of impression on Her Majesty. I know exactly what these people like. Class. And elegance. Nothing is too good for them; nothing is too expensive or too outlandish. Grabbing my watch, coat and scarf, I ran outside, only to return a minute later to grab my keys, notebook and put on my shoes. 

As I ran through the frost-covered streets, I silently cursed not for the first time the fact that I did not have a car. This city – thank you, whoever discovered it – wasn't that big and it wouldn't take long to reach the other side of it. The air was cold against my skin, making my cheeks sting from the rush of winter's breath. Everything was a blur, only my destination clear in my mind. I must've looked like a madman, an escapee from the mental institution, but at the moment the interview was my top priority. After fifteen minutes of running, Chez Pierre's was in sight, and I hastened my gait. Stopping outside the quaint establishment, I took a moment to catch my breath and straighten out my slightly rumpled coat. Wiping off the sweat that was gathering on my brow, I walked in, making sure to look dignified while doing so. 

I scanned over the cozy room; the morning people were hunched in front of their mugs of coffee, staring almost lifelessly out into the street, some couples were nestled near the entrance, murmuring sweet endearments to each other. I saw no pissy Prima Donnas, though. Maybe the girl had tired of waiting and left? If that's the case, my boss would have my ass on Monday...I went up to the lady at the reception, who paused filing her nails to spare me an appreciative glance, and told her of my appointment there. She looked at me sourly and pointed with her brightly colored fingernail to the back booth. 

When I arrived at the appointed booth, my jaw nearly dropped, along with my eyeballs. I saw a fragile looking young woman, slender-built and pale in complexion. Long, ebony hair flowed down her back, sheathing her slim form. Her eyes were downcast, staring into the dark of her coffee from beneath her eyelashes. I couldn't believe my eyes. Here I was, imagining an elephant-lady or a "Goth Queen", and all I got was this delicate, dainty creature sitting in the corner? 

I cleared my throat.

Startled, she looked up to me and my jaw almost hit the floor for the second time that morning. She had the most astonishing purple eyes I've ever seen – even though I hadn't seen too many; they had flecks of blue and violet mixed with amethyst. They kinda sent chills down my back.

"Yes?" She prodded gently.

That woke me up from the momentary spell. I shifted my feet around nervously, unable to find words appropriate enough. "I-I'm supposed to have an interview with you today...?"

"O-oh! You must be Mr. Hiiragizawa; I've heard so much about you from Mr. Strorm. Please, have a seat," she gestured toward the leather-upholstered bench opposite her, and I took my seat stiffly. 

"I'm sorry I'm so late; overslept," I said sheepishly, extending my hand for her to shake.

"No harm done. I needed a bit of quiet time," said she while excepting my offered hand. 

We fell into an uncomfortable silence, during which I surveyed her more closely. She had a full, rosy mouth, with just a hint of dimples at the corners. High cheekbones and an elfin nose graced her youthful face; I felt as if I was staring into a deity's face. Her eyes were the most prominent features, though. And, yes, I know I sound like a newly weaned child – or a hormone-driven teenager – but her appearance startled me, that's all. She seemed so ordinary, dressed in her simple peach-colored turtleneck and what I assumed were dress pants. In fact, I can bet my entire CD collection that I've seen her around the university campus; she might even be in my English Lit. class. 

The waitress, Elle, chose that moment to show her bubbly self. "What ya want, honey?" She asked, winking at me. Elle is a sweet gal, a bit odd at times, and not to mention old enough to be my mother, but sweet. 

"Just black coffee with two sugar cubes, please, Elley,"

"And I'd like some pizza (A/N: argh! I don't know any French food), please," cut in Daidouji-san and Elle bounced away cheerily. 

I looked at her with a raised eyebrow. I thought artistic people like her only fed on rabbit food and protein shakes. "I didn't know your kind of people ate this kind of food," the words escaped my mouth before I was able to stop the urge. 

"My kind of people? And what kind would that exactly be?" She asked with a hint of amusement in her voice. 

Err..."Nothing; I was just talking to myself." Lame excuse, huh? "Now, onto the interview, can you tell me something about yourself, Ms. Daidouji?" I said while flipping to a new page in my notebook.

"What do you want to know?" 

I thought about that for a moment. I was not given specific instructions regarding this interview. Heh. Just what my boss would do. He wanted me out of the game so badly, he purposely "forgot" to include the details of my assignment. Well, no biggie, I've been in tougher situations before this.

I was wondering why she was so unlike every other artist. Why she didn't wear make-up and way too expensive clothes. And why two minutes of looking into her eyes got my stomach doing the samba. Instead I asked: "What's your background? Where were you born? Family? Anything particular in your genealogy?"

She looked at me and smiled slightly. "There's nothing special about me, really. I was born in a small town – Tomoeda, Japan. My mother and my self moved here when I was six. I was always interested in music and art, so I've attended classes ever since I first placed foot on this soil. Anything else, Mr. Hiiragizawa?"

I could tell that that wasn't her entire story, but I respect her privacy and won't question her about it – too much. I could feel more than see a tiny smirk crossing her features. I don't know how, but she was mocking me. I felt the red of embarrassment tinge at my cheeks. I was about to open my mouth for a clever comeback when Elle decided to flounce back in, bringing my coffee with her. Coffee, just what I need. Sometimes, I love this woman to bits. Taking the warm cup into my waiting hands, I almost sighed with contentment. The Diva smirked at me almost imperceptibly, but I caught it and practically glared at her. She giggled and I tightened my hold on the mug. 

She was about to say something when she suddenly froze. I quirked an eyebrow at her. She glanced at her watch hurriedly and got up, exclaiming: "Oh no! I'll be late!"Before I could gather my wits to realize what was going on, she was donning on her coat and dashing toward the exit. 

"Hey! Where are you going?" I called out to her, unwittingly catching the attention of everyone else in the room. 

"I forgot; I have to meet my manager in ten minutes!"

"What about the interview?"

"I'll arrange another meeting," with that she disappeared outside. 

I sighed and leaned back into my seat. She sure wasn't what I expected. It almost made me feel guilty; I assumed her entire personality without even knowing her. Almost. There were always other chances to prove my theory true. I glanced at my watch and noted that I had almost two hours before I had to go to class. I looked out into the street, taking leisurely sips of my coffee. I would have to meet her again – Argh! – and my boss would have a proverbial fit when he heard about this. At this moment, though, all I could think about were the Diva's entrancing eyes and the sway of her hips when she walked out of the café. I mentally groaned and slid farther into my seat. 

(tbc) 

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Gah! Try to write a funny dialogue while listening to _Lux Aeterna_! It's impossible I tell you! (For any of you who don't know what I'm talking about, it's the LORT: The Two Towers trailer music)


	3. Merengue

A/N: Ehehehe...Sorry this is so late, I was too busy with Christmas and an art project, plus, I just so happen to be one of the unfortunate people using AOL. Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed. 

A bit of Ry rant: Gah! Gah, I tell you! What kind of a world we are living in if one can't even find a _good_ map of one of the most famous cities? I've been trying to find a detailed map of Arles for a while now, and what do I find? Van Gogh! *walks away grumbling*

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Chapter 3: Merengue

I stood in line at the local grocery shop, irritably tapping my foot and clutching my carrier closer to my side, shielding the contents from prying eyes. I can almost swear that the mammoth lady in front of me is eyeing the Chocolate Chip ice cream in my basket. I've always had a weakness for sweets; one of these days they are going to be my downfall. I reached the cashier, placing the produce in front of her and taking out my wallet. She looked at me in boredom, bursting a gum bubble and lazily began counting off the costs. Couldn't she move faster? Some people had places to be and dinner to prepare. 

"That'll be $34.94, Monsieur," she managed to drone out between chews of her strawberry gum. 

I forked out the money and grumbled out a polite sounding 'thank you' before heading outside with my food. Hmph! People these days! 'Customers always come first' my rear end! It was harder and harder to find competent service. Soon my head will be bitten off because I decided to buy 50% off pork leg and used a check to pay!

When I got to my apartment, I wasn't in a good mood, to say the least. I got mud splashed on my new jeans and I think I dropped one or two apples as I was turning a corner. After disposing of my coat and scarf, I moved to my small kitchen. I sorted out the groceries and fed Spinel Sun some Swiss cheese (I swear, that cat has the most peculiar tastes). I was in the middle of taking out pans and various ingredients when a flashing light on my answering machine caught my eye. Shrugging, I pressed the 'play' button and continued in my preparations for dinner. 

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'Leave a message at the tone...'

'Hiiragizawa, (that was my boss' voice)_ I've read the report you left in my secretary's charge. I have to say, I'm very disappointed –' _

I snorted softly. "I'm sure you are, old fart."

__

'– I expected much better from my best employee. Seriously, if you cannot commit yourself to this job, I would have to let you go. There is simply no room for inefficient workers in today's business.'

I almost dropped the carton of milk I was holding and growled deeply in my throat. Who was _he_ to call me "inefficient"? A large share of the company's – and the world's – troubles were because of bosses like him. It was power hungry vultures like him that made today's market a perpetual war zone. And I wouldn't have turned in such a lousy report if he had given me more ground rules. 

__

'I have scheduled another interview with Ms. Daidouji. You have better not blows out this chance, Hiiragizawa, it's the only one you have left. The interview session is this Wednesday at 4:30pm in the local plaza. Hope you have a nice evening.'

I walked brusquely to the machine and pressed the 'erase' button before the message could repeat itself. Walking back to the kitchen counter, I began slicing green pepper and onions, while the answering machine from Hell ground out the next message. 

'Eriol-chaaaaan!'

I winced, both from the squeal-y voice and the cut I just enforced upon my finger. The message was from my cousin, Nakuru Akizuki. We were really close when I was growing up, mainly because I was left in her care when both my parents died in a car accident, now she lives in Japan while I am here, in Arles. Even though I am officially an adult, she still treats me like a diaper-wearing three-year-old. I feel smothered at times – quite literally, given the strength of her hugs – but I appreciate her effort. Sighing, I opted to listen to the message instead of running toward the 'skip' button. 

__

'Oh I miss you! I miss you sooo much! Yes I do! You have no idea how hard it is living all alone and without my sweet-oh Eriol-chan. Say 'hi' to Suppi-chan (a nickname she gave to Spinel Sun)_. How is Syao-kun and Sakura-chan doing? Still pining for each other? They'll never change, and if they do then take out your army helmet 'cause Armageddon is upon us!.. Anou... I wanted to know when you could visit me. Soon? Great! Come here in February! – '_

It was just like her; dragging me somewhere without asking me about it. At least she intended well, even if it offered painful consequences for me. 

__

'–Oh, and don't forget: I want to see a wedding ring attached to some pretty girl's finger. I want to see you married before I'm thirty, and I want to see little nieces and nephews running around. And if you don't comply, I'll drag you down to Vegas and marry you off to the first broad I see. Kiss Sakura-chan for me and don't strain yourself from work! I'll call you next week. Ja ne!'

I glared at the flashing read light of the machine. Typical; overprotective cousins demanding I marry and have kids so they would feel younger. I shivered at her threat, knowing perfectly well that she would do that, at the very least. The prospect of settling down was not appealing at this moment. I have always been an independent person, and tying myself down to somebody wasn't on my 'top priority' list. 

I was mixing up salad dressing when the next message began to play, from the Diva this time. I snorted into the bits of lettuce and olives upon hearing her voice. She seemed rushed and almost breathless. She asked to move the interview to tomorrow evening at the dance studio, due to some last minute scheduling. Sighing, I made a mental note to cancel all evening appointments for tomorrow. 

The last message was from Syaoran. He invited me to another party, requesting that I bring a date along. Heh. The guy doesn't even have enough guts to ask the girl he likes to date and here he is, commenting on _my_ love life! Now this has got to be a conspiracy or something. It's either that everyone wants to see me drop dead on my spot or send me off to the priest with a bride hanging off my arm. I don't need a spouse, I don't need a lifelong partner, and I don't _want_ one either. Sigh. I give up. Abandoning the salad, I took out the ice cream I bought today and headed for the den. At least chocolate is consistent, _it _never gives me lectures on _my_ love life. 

Next evening, I found myself in front of an ancient looking building down in the Blvd. des Lices district, close to the park. I heard a faint melody wafting from the inside, piquing my curiosity and dread. I opened one of the massive doors – they were really heavy – and walked inside. The foyer was empty, as was the waiting room and the corridors. I followed the melody, wincing slightly at how loud my footsteps were against the pristine tiles. I stopped at the end of the hall, where a faint light was emanating underneath the door and where the music also appeared louder. Inhaling one last breath, I braved to open the door. 

At first I saw only an expanse of hardwood floor and mirror, then a fluid movement caught my eye. It was Daidouji-san, though now she appeared even more ethereal than at our first meeting. She moved with a certain grace, her small feet and long hair in perfect harmony with the beat of the music – a soft, lilting melody; it was both real and otherworldly. Something that captivated me, yet repelled me at the same time. I felt some primal instinct gnaw itself upon my gut (much to my displeasure), forcing my eyes to stare and my mind to go blank. She seemed almost in a trance, eyes closed and lips slightly parted, letting the rhythm guide her. After a while of just watching her, I realized (with no small amount of surprise) that I could see the lines, the transition between one position to another. Yet it was more than that. It was truly magical, or as close to magic as it came without wizards and spells. 

The crescendo increased, as did the swaying of her hips and movement of her arms. The music slowly died down but I remained rooted to my spot, still entranced with her lithe figure pirouetting here and there before stopping. Minutes trickled by, and before I could realise, Daidouji-san was heading my way with a smile on her face. 

"Hi. I guess practice went for longer than I expected. I'm sorry I made you wait," she said while wiping off tiny beads of sweat from her forehead. 

The performance left me breathless and light-headed; it's as if I came to an epiphany without quite understanding what it was just yet. But I wasn't going to tell her that. Nor would I tell her that I did not mind seeing her doing something so sensual and captivating, because, in fact, I very much liked it. "No problem. What were you dancing?"

She glanced up at me from the bench where she was digging out a water bottle form a knap sack on the floor. Strange, how come I didn't notice those when I came in?

"Oh, that was just a bit of free-styling," she replied continuing with her task. "Sometimes I just let the rhythm of the melody take me and guide me. Do you ever do that Mr. Hiiragizawa?" She removed the white sash around her slender hips, completely exposing the black leotard she wore, and donned on a pair of loose jeans and a polo shirt. 

I felt a small blush creep into my cheeks, and I stubbornly pushed the feeling back. "You can just call me Eriol. And no, I've never done that; I don't dance."

She stifled a bout of giggles with her hand and looked up to me again, her eyes sparkling mischievously. "That's not what I meant..um..Eriol. I mean, do you ever just let yourself go? Surrender yourself to something so wholly that you are not aware of either time or place, nor that you are creating something beautiful?" 

Her question took me aback; I had not expected her to ask me something so deep. I was just trying to make light of the situation, to get rid of the mental image of her suspended in motion and so divine looking. "No, I haven't. Not to my knowledge."

She looked at me for a long moment, her eyes piercing mine. I felt the heat creep back to my cheeks and I mentally cursed my fair complexion. Looking at her looking at me like that was just a little bit unnerving. 

"We must get on with the interview, Ms. Daidouji," my voice broke the silence and the momentary spell. 

"Yes, you're right. Come to my apartment where I can at least offer you some tea for your effort," she replied, exiting the room and heading toward outside. She paused in her progress, putting on her coat, and said, "Oh, and it's Tomoyo."

Tomoyo, huh? Plum Blossoms. A fitting name for someone as delicate as her. I smirked to myself and followed her to her car. "So the Diva has a name, and its Tomoyo."

"Did you say something?" she called out across the parking lot, where she was unlocking her Sedan. 

"I was just thinking that it might snow tonight."

"Then you better hurry up; wouldn't want you to face the wrath of Father Winter, do I?"

As I sat in the Div – Tomoyo's car and stared out into the rapidly darkening streets, I wondered about what she said. Let myself be? How would I do that with all the responsibilities hanging on my shoulders. I don't have time nor the patience to just "let go"; there is too much at stake and I am not in any way willing to sacrifice all that. Besides, what did she know. She did not have priorities and responsibilities, only art. She didn't know what it was to struggle through school alone because there was no one in the world to call your family. She was an epitome of the artist – living, breathing art, unaware of all the troubles in the world. 

"You have a Japanese name," she said out of the blue, breaking the silence and my reverie, "how come?" 

"I'm half Japanese. My mother was Japanese; my father was from England," I replied still looking at the passing street lamps and the people who braved the cold to go outside. 

"How come you live all the way here?"

I glanced at her profile and shrugged. "The history of this city, I guess." 

I saw a real smile cross her lips, and I wondered at the gesture. "That's why I stayed here after my mother died. I love this city, I love the history, the romance. It pulls you, you know? Draws you and then you can't leave it behind."

I nodded absentmindedly, stealing another glance at Tomoyo, before returning to watch the road. So she lost someone, too. Now I feel even guiltier than at our first meeting. I'll need to make a mental note to stop judging people on their appearances. This sure was one whopper of a second impression though, and, knowing that there would be more meetings to come (though why, I have no idea), I'm definitely looking forward to the next one. 

(tbc)

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	4. Quickstep

A/N: What happened to all the nice reviews? Aa *shrug*, anyway this is the new chapter hope you enjoy!

Just a bit of senseless rambling: Can anyone (anyone that is for some reason reading this) believe that this story was originally supposed to be a lemon? Yeah, that's right. That was all of -what?- nine months ago, when I first came up with this fic. I changed nearly everything, except the main conflict. I am, however, considering into making this a full or semi-lime, but seeing as to how this is my first time doing something of this sort, I'm a little sceptic . . . What do ya think?

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Chapter 4: Quickstep 

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'It's not at all how I expected it to be', was the first thought that crossed my mind as Tomoyo's Sedan pulled in front of her apartment building. I was thinking more along the lines of an expensive, posh-looking building in the rich section of this city; those were built especially for celebrities and the elite. Instead, we stopped at an ordinary-looking five-storey apartment building, a couple of blocks from my own. 

"Come on, let's get inside before we freeze out butts in this cold," she said when they stepped out into the cold air. 

"Yes, ma'am!" I exclaimed and mock saluted before following suit. I was beginning to have fun. It's not every day that you see a celebrity cuss and generally act like a normal person. 

I was feeling surprisingly giddy and my libido was in overdrive mode. Here you have this femme fatale, whom I've met a couple of days ago and knew very little about, inviting me into her apartment without a thought. Now, I have to admit, I am rather handsome. Believe me, that's not narcissism talking. I can barely breathe at school without having a girl or two swoon and drop to my feet. It still is rather flattering to have someone like _her – _who, I must admit, is a looker – invite me over, even though I know it's for business purposes.

"So, what does your place look like?" I ask, intending to bring down the blush-o-meter. 

"Why don't you wait and see?" she replied before opening the door. She then continues in automaton voice, "Welcome to the 'Daidouji Abode'. In front of you is the small but humble foyer, which leads straight to the living room, where television and sitting arrangements are available for your pleasure. Off to the right of the living room, you can find the kitchen, where the hostess would be glad to make you something edible. And beyond that are the sleeping accommodations – accessible by invite only – and where the hostess also excuses herself in order to change. If you excuse me, I'll be back before you can blink. In the meantime, make yourself at home."

I laughed; she was a comedian, too? Surprise, surprise. Making my way over to the couch, taking off my coat while doing so. I grinned and called out, "I blinked, thrice. Why aren't you back yet?"

She stuck her head out of one of the doorways, from what I assumed was her bedroom. "That's what some people call 'sarcasm'."

I smirked again then took a look around the apartment. It wasn't anything fancy, surprisingly enough. It was rather quaint, actually. The walls were a pale sienna with many dark-framed picture handing on them. The eastern wall opened to a picturesque window, below which was a love seat. Decorational plants dominated the corners. It was the epitome of modern elegance and homeliness combined; it reminded me of my own apartment. 

I took a picture frame from the coffee table in front of me, inspecting it closely. It was a picture of two young girls, one of whom I identified as Tomoyo. They had their arms slung around each other's shoulders, hands proclaiming peace. I took a look at another photograph, this time of an older Tomoyo by herself. The next one of her holding a trophy-type statuette. After inspecting half a dozen of similar pictures, I discovered a flaw.

"Hey," I called out to Tomoyo. 

A "hmm?" was followed by the rusting of clothes and I blinked at a sudden mental picture that struck.

"There are many pictures here. How come there are none of your boyfriend?"

"My boyfriend?" She asked walking in simple jeans and a tight, _Dead or Alive_ t-shirt – completely not what I expected her to wear. "What kind of boyfriend to you mean, mon cherie? The boy who just so happens to be a friend, or the friend that became more than that?"

I felt my face flush when I realized that I was staring. The shirt clung to her, accentuating her curves and slender form. A naughty comment about her choice of clothes came to mind, but what came out was: "The latter."

"I haven't had a boyfriend since kindergarten, and that was only because he thought that a kiss on the cheek meant marriage," she answered jokingly.

I was shocked, to say the least. She was pretty – beautiful, in fact – , rich and famous, what kind of moron wouldn't want her? She had everything; she was perfect. This matter suddenly seemed very interesting to me. 

"I'll go make us some tea. If you like biscuits you can help yourself with the ones on the coffee table." I nodded and watched her wander into the small kitchen. 

"What about the former?" I called out after a minute, shifting on the couch. 

"What? Male friends? I have some, though I wouldn't consider any of them close. Just friendly acquittances, you know? I guess I just don't have the time for much socializing with dance; I have a lot of performances during this time of the year."

I understood what she meant, even if subconsciously. I, too, don't have that many friends, just someone who I could exchange "hello"s and "long time no see"s with. I am too afraid to get close to people, too afraid to let them truly see me as I am. Maybe because I can't find someone with similar interests as I. Or maybe that's because if I get too close to someone they will hurt me in one way or another. And then there would be the heartache and the misery-filled days and I would feel too pathetic to exist. I had some unpleasant cases of this, and I do not wish to repeat the experience. 

"Careful; it's hot," came Tomoyo's voice right next to my ear and I nearly jumped at the warm breath tickling my neck. 

She giggled at my reaction and placed both cups of jasmine tea on the coffee table. "Sorry, you were so immersed in contemplation I thought it would be amusing to wake you up."

Settling on the couch next to me, legs folded underneath her, she said, "We better start with the interview, I have already delayed you enough."

"Right," I replied, taking out my handy-dandy notebook once more. "So, tell me, what inspired you to dance?"

Tomoyo looked thoughtful for a long moment, taking delicate sips of her now warm tea. "Well," she began and I edged closer to her in order to hear her better, or at least that's what I told myself, "when I was young, I can barely remember it now, I went to see a ballet. My father was still with mom and me then and we lived in Tomoeda." She laughed dryly, a faraway look in her eyes. "I remember how my mom was nearly bludgeoning me to wear that frilly dress she bought, and I was stomping my feet and saying that I looked like a girl."

"Care to elaborate on that?" I asked, eyebrow quirked, ceasing the movement of my pen to listen. Her life seemed very interesting to me, even though I've heard so little of it, and I was suddenly longing to know more about her. 

She laughed, placing the cup on the coffee table before she could spill any. "If you really want to know. When I was little, I always had to wear overly girlie dress and have ribbons in my hair. One day, I got so tired of everyone calling me "such a pretty little girl" I cut off my hair with the gardening shears. Oh, you should have _seen _the look on my mother's face! I swear, she looked like an anthropomorphized fish, with the gaping mouth and all! My father just laughed called me his cute little boy instead." 

I laughed and shook my head. "I would give my cat and a week's worth of food to see that!" 

She laughed along with me before saying, "You should smile more often, it makes you look really gorgeous." 

My eyes widened at her proclamation and I felt my cheeks flush once again. Why am I having such a reaction to someone I barely met? Her especially? I don't even like her. Fighting with my own indecisive mind, I continued with the interview. "What happened after you stomping your feet?" 

"The three of us went to the opera house – that's where the ballet, Swan Lake, was performed. Oh, it was one of the best times of my life. I felt like I belonged to real family. You see, my mother parents were often too busy to spend time with me, and I was feeling like an outsider in my own household. Doing something so family-like with my parents was truly . . . Oh, great! I can't even express how momentous that was!"

"It's all right; I know what you mean."

"Anyway, the performance left me at the edge of my seat the entire time. I felt like I was the Princess, mourning the loss of her Prince, especially during the last act. It was as if a bolt of _something_ struck through me, and then I knew, that I wanted to do that. I wanted to be the one on stage – anywhere, for that matter, as long as I was dancing. To live and breath it is something I can't even describe to you; the joy I feel when I'm up there, moving to the beat of the music. It's my passion, my life."

I jotted down the last line and looked up at her. Her eyes were glossy, sparkling almost; if I didn't know any better, I would have sworn she was crying. I shook my mind back to the present and the information written before me. "Right then. Can you tell me, what obstacles do you face? It mustn't have been easy to do this all by yourself."

"You're right, it's not easy," she said, looking morose again. All of a sudden I decided that I very much did not like this look on her face; I would rather see her happy and smiling. "First, father left. At that time, mother was even more un-mom-like. She had withdrawn into herself, became cold and distant. It truly pained me to see her like that. In a way, I'm happy that she passed away; she doesn't have to suffer any more." She paused for a deep breath and looked up to me. "After mom . . . left . . . I didn't know what to do, where to go after our life savings had been all used up. I still had to attend school and I had dance lessons to think about, that toppled off with the necessities. I lived in a one room apartment with another person, and between us, the costs were just barely attainable. I had to get a part-time job, two, in fact, but on most days I still went hungry."

A quiet moment passed between us. I found something akin to pity and sympathy bubbling in my chest, but I knew that that would be the last thing she wanted at that moment. So, instead I said, "We all have some pit stones in our lives. What got you through yours?" 

"Well, one day after dance lessons, my teacher came up to me and said that I had potential – enough to perform in the upcoming dance recital. I agreed, of course. And from then on, my career in the entertainment world had been rising. It's like waking up from sleep and finding yourself in a more elaborate dreamscape."

"Are there any influential people in your life?" I asked, sucking in my breath expectedly. 

"Mostly the classical and modern artists; they are the ones I look up to when I feel like needing mentor-ship. Also, Sakura."

"Sakura?" I asked, halting my pen once more. 

"Hmm." She nodded in conformance. 

"Is she the one in most of these photographs?" 

"Yes," Tomoyo replied, and seeing as to how I needed more information on the subject continued. "Sakura is my best friend –" surprisingly enough, I felt oddly relieved "– she is the one who pulls me through when I'm down, she's the one who adds colour to my monotonous days. I'd feel lost and useless if she was gone. Her strength and vivaciousness make me want to succeed more, and so I strive toward success." 

A tense moment hung between us, interrupted by the scribbling of my pen. Tomoyo waited until I finished writing my sentence before standing up and exclaiming, "It's so late! You must forgive me, I took too much of your time. Now you'll probably not get any sleep and be all grouchy-like in the morning!" 

I grinned inwardly; it seemed so like her to change a sombre mood into a light one. "You're right. I'll probably turn into Mr. Grinch during the night, and try to steal the dazzling heroine." 

"Then you'd better get going, if the cold permits, and if not you'd be an icicle by the morrow, my guarantee," she said, grabbing my coat and showing me to the door. 

"Then I'd better fo. Goodnight," I said to her, suddenly very unwilling to leave her side. 

"G' night," Tomoyo echoed, head peeking out of the doorway, watching me leave. "I'll drop by your place one of these days. Maybe _then_ we'll be able to finish the interview."

"Hopefully. Well, Goodnight, see you next time, Tomoyo." I felt like a broken record, a feat that was hitherto unknown to me. But this girl brought out the strangest things in me, made me feel things I thought I've long forgotten how to feel. 

"Goodbye, Eriol."

I shivered as she said my name; coming from her, it sounded like a sensuous caress, almost. As I stepped outside, I let the evening air wash away the day's tension, cooling my senses along with it. She said some interesting things today, and I can't help but feel as if I had taken a ride on an intricate roller coaster. I feel as if she told me some great secret, or perhaps just a simple truth, about herself, me, people in general. The one question that pervaded my thoughts as I lay down in my bed that night was: Why does she have such an effect on me? And why do I like it?

(tbc)

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This chapter didn't have many funny scenes, but that's what I wanted, isn't it? The story will end when the interview is over. 


	5. Paso Doble

A/N: Sorry this is so late, but the upgrades to ff.net have left something screwy with my computer and I couldn't figure out how to log in for the longest time. Note to SVZ: I tried that Chinese fortune you forwarded to me, it really did work, though my wish won't come true for a long while. Thanks to all the wonderful reviewers; you have no idea what you people are doing to my confidence ;___; Enjoy!

  
  


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Chapter 5: Paso Doble

  
  


I was in the middle of the best dream in my life. I was surrounded by colours and, strangely enough, music. It was a soft, lilting melody, soothing me into an even deeper slumber. I saw something gloriously radiant move in front of me and ran up to touch it, to feel its beauty. 

  
  


That was when I was jolted into the conscious world by a harsh sound. I sat for a while in my bed, too disorientated to figure out what was happening and too drowsy to figure out the next step. I was fully prepared to close my eyes and fall into blissful slumber when the pounding increased in vigour. After a while, I realized that the sound was coming from the front door; somebody must have been knocking for the past half hour or so.

  
  


"I'm coming already!" I yelled, even though there was a fair chance that the visitor would not hear it from all that wall space. 

  
  


As much as I loathed leaving the warm comforts of my sheets, I shifted my body and nearly crawled out of bed and out into the parlour, ignoring Spinel Sun and the return-from-Hell state I was in. Who could have possibly been in their right mind to actually be up at - what? - six a.m.? Whoever they were, they would get fried faster than in a marshmallow in 390 Fahrenheit. I hollered out to the unwelcome visitor once again and grudgingly threw open the door. 

  
  


"What do you -- ?!"

  
  


Outside my apartment door stood Tomoyo, nicely donned in a warm-looking coat and crimson muffler and appearing somewhat surprised. 

  
  


"-- want . . . "

  
  


I gaped at her for what seemed like a very long time but was most likely only a couple of minutes. My mind must have been to sleep fogged to register any of my well-bred manners, and so, I just stood in my doorway and stared at Tomoyo. I could tell that she was beginning to squirm under my scrutiny. 

  
  


"Would it trouble you too much if you let me in?" She nearly squeaked out, timidly pointing behind me. 

  
  


Still a little shaken and not too awake, I moved aside and let her in. "Make yourself at home." She followed me into the living room, taking a nice position on the couch while I went to the kitchen to have my first cup of coffee. 

  
  


"What brings you here?" I called out to her, balancing a frying pan and eggs in one hand and a coffee cup in the other. 

  
  


"I just wanted to drop in and say 'hi'." 

  
  


"Don't you think you outdid yourself a bit?"

  
  


"Why would you think so?" Her voice came from right behind me and I nearly jumped out of my skin when her hand seized one of mine, the one with the cooking pan. I shivered at the feel of her warm, soft skin against my own, but chose to ignore the sudden lurch of my heart straight to my bowls. Seriously, what is wrong with me these days? I can't even hold a normal conversation without my stomach doing pirouettes.

  
  


"It's a bit early, for one thing."

  
  


"I always get up early; I find I can concentrate better when the world is fresh and not quite awake yet."

  
  


"Why come here, then?"

  
  


She shrugged nonchalantly and moved over to my stove. "I thought you could use some company." She gave me a once-over and smirked furtively. "Can you do me a favour?"

  
  


I thought that one over. What could she possibly want from me that she couldn't get from anyone else? Attention, perhaps? Some company? "What kind of favour did you have in mind?"

  
  


She smiled sweetly, something I have grown to appreciate seeing as to how so few of her smiles were real and intended my way. "You could put something presentable on. I doubt pyjama bottoms are the perfect attire for accepting guests."

  
  


I was caught off guard momentarily. I blinked, then blinked again and looked down. I flushed with embarrassment when I realized that I was, indeed, wearing my pyjama bottoms. And when I say pyjama bottoms, I mean nothing else. I was beyond humiliated, a fact that I was sure stood out plain and clear on my face. I'm not a person who is comfortable with exposing too much of themselves, wether emotion or physically wise. I have to admit, I was very uncomfortable with her eyes travelling the expanse of my chest. I excused myself to change, mumbling something about being too sleepy to realize my state of undress. 

  
  


"Don't worry, Bon," her voice rang after me, "the pants weren't that bad, I've seen worse. It's the expanse of chest that I'm worried about. Tsk, tsk. They should make shirts illegal. You go on, put something presentable on while I make you breakfast."

  
  


I could tell that she was trying to lessen my humiliation, but I fear it only made it worse. She had actually seen me, exposed, half-naked seen me! What does she think of me now? That I'm trying to be all Don-Juan, macho in front of her? Ha! That'll happen when pigs grow pink and purple wings and decide that migrating south is a very tempting idea! Maybe she really did see enough male bodies to last her a life time, most of which were much better sculpted than I. Maybe she finds the sight of me appalling. Oh, I wish I had a device that with a press of a button would tell me what females thought!

  
  


Walking into the kitchen a couple of minutes and several layers of cloth later, I espied Tomoyo sitting at the kitchen counter dangling a string above Spinel Sun. I braced myself against the wall, using it to support me while I just looked on the scene. "I hope you don't mind, but I fed your cat," she said without glancing up. 

  
  


"You're going to spoil him," I warned her, moving off the wall and joining her at the table. Tomoyo made bacon and eggs, and even if that wasn't my favourite food to have in the mornings, the grumbling of my stomach forced me to eat anyway. 

  
  


"Spoil him? Why look at the poor thing, he's skin and bones!" she exclaimed, throwing her hands into the air, dropping the string while doing so. "I wonder if you ever feed the poor creature!"

  
  


I mock-glared at her from the plate, mumbling, "He nearly won the title of 'the king of heavyweight felines' last time I let him roam outside."

  
  


"Stop murmuring into your food; it's bad manners, you know," she said in a know-it-all voice, an arbitrary finger raised in the air. "C'mon, hurry up and finish eating, I want to go for a walk."

  
  


I was wondering why she was so eager to go outside after staying for such a short while. A part of me that had a very annoying tendency to peek out at the most inappropriate moments decided to jab its finger into my side, proclaiming that maybe I was scaring Tomoyo away. I brushed off the thought, and continued with my breakfast, which wasn't as bad as I expected it to be. 

  
  


Sometime later, my apartment locked and warm coats donned, Tomoyo and I were strolling past the snowy Arles streets. The crisp air was calming, soothing almost, and I was beginning to understand why Tomoyo would bother to wake up at such an ungodly hour to go outside. The snow was sparkling from the rays of sunlight peeking through the breaks in-between buildings, and the air seemed more fresh and delightful. I smiled softly at the crunching of the snow beneath my feet, liking at how nothing else disturbed that sound, no cars or noisy pedestrians. 

  
  


"This is what life is all about, don't you think?" she asked me after a long while. 

  
  


"What?"

  
  


"This. Just breathing, being, is what life is all about, I think. There is no need for anything, not money nor power, just walking along and being."

  
  


"I don't think I understand." I murmured in return. 

  
  


She sighed, exasperated. "I mean that right now, at this moment, there is nothing else besides us walking along the street, taking in the cool air. We don't have to worry about what is going to happen today or tomorrow, just right now, at this point in space and time."

  
  


"But, if we do not consider what comes with tomorrow - or the next instance, in fact - how will we be prepared? How do we know that our actions right now are not going to have a negative effect later? How do we know that we are doing the right thing so that in future we won't blame ourselves for the mistake?" 

  
  


I could feel the ire level rising in Tomoyo and secretly I enjoyed the knowledge that I was the one who caused that anger. I liked the look on her face, I decided. Her cheeks were flushed both from the cold and from the build-up of furore. Her eyes were a brilliant purple, the depths of which almost left me breathless. I could tell that a verbal spar was to happen if things were allowed to run their course, and the debating sprite in me wanted to show his cunning self.

"Can't you just stop looking on the outside of things and consider them just as they are?" She exclaimed, coming to an abrupt halt."You all ways do this! You always manage to turn the simplest of things into mountains! 'Yes' becomes a 'maybe' and 'perhaps', later turning into 'should I?' and 'what if?'.Can't you for once look at something and say 'Hey, that's what I see, and we'll leave it at that'? It's not that hard, you know." 

  
  


"What right do you have to assume how I think and act without even getting to know me? Why, you are no better than the stereotypical, judgmental modernist!" This was a bit too much, I must admit, but what she said struck a chord in me and I couldn't help but hurt her as much as her words hurt me. 

  
  


She sighed and looked away, her face scrunching up in sadness before it was shielded by her dark hair. "You are right. I shouldn't have snapped at you; I shouldn't have been making silly assumptions about you. I'm sorry. I was just trying to prove my point."

  
  


Wait a second. I am the one who nearly woke the entire neighbourhood with all my yelling, I am the one who called her venomous names. Then how come she is the one to apologize? She did nothing wrong, just what is expected of a normal human being. Judging people based on their physical appearance is normal, not necessarily right, but it is normal. 

  
  


"No, it is not your fault. It's mine," I said resignedly, hanging my head in shame. "I shouldn't have snapped at you."

  
  


She looked up, relief beginning to blossom on her visage. Minutes passed us by with her just looking into my eyes. After a while, a sunny smile broke out on Tomoyo's face. "Then we're even then. We're both sorry, and we'll both never do that again. Agreed?"

  
  


"Agreed," I confirmed. We pinky shook on our deal - completely Tomoyo's idea - and were soon on our way back to my apartment building so I could get some scant hours of sleep before getting ready for school and before Tomoyo was late for her dance recital. 

  
  


"Adieu, Monsieur Eriol, till next we meet," she said at the entrance to the building, doing a fancy bow. 

  
  


I smirked and captured her hand, placing a kiss on the inside of the palm. "Farewell, my Lady, the hour until next I see you is an eternity and a day away; too long I fear."

  
  


She laughed and, waving, went down the street. I stood outside, looking at her distant form, until it became an almost indistinguishable dot against the horizon. Inside my apartment, curled on my couch and clicker at hand, I thought about how glad I was that Tomoyo and I were still on speaking terms. 

  
  


The scary thing was that she was right. I do tend to look at the future more than the present. Things were never as simple as she put it. It was more that mere yes or no, there were all the consequences to think about. Should I say yes, then that would lead to other things, eventually ending up in commitments I was too busy to commit to and relationships I didn't want to form, and then I would be blaming myself for making the stupidest mistakes. But wasn't that what she was trying to tell me? That I should just let things run their course and see where that takes me? Just let go of all precautions and be? 

  
  


Another scary thought crossed my mind and I realised that I was just as hideous as the thing I accused Tomoyo of. I was the one who judged her by her appearance, I was the one who assumed things about her. It's funny how things always manage to turn themselves on me . . . 

  
  


(tbc)

  
  


* * * * * * * * 

Somehow, I get the impression that this chapter is not quite complete . . . maybe because I changed it halfway through writing it . . . I'm stalling, I know . . . 

  
  
  
  



	6. Bolero

A/N: *cough* *cough* Heehe, SVZ, hope you have a fun honeymoon! Bring back pictures! ... Sorry this is so late, again... but my exams are starting next week (and even though I never study for them) I'm panicking like there's no tomorrow. Besides, I had a tonne of last minute assignments and such... But at least I know where this fic is going (I can't wait for chapter 9). Hope you like this chapter.

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**Chapter 6: Bolero**  
  


I sat in my boss' office, drumming my fingers impatiently, counting the dust mites settling on the window plane. I had been called down to the office in the morning, there was something Mr. Strorm needed to see me about, and as I trudged through the cold early this morning I was considering just quitting the job and sparing myself the trouble of having my boss do it for me.   
  


I had not yet finished the report on Tomoyo. Though I had ample opportunities to, I felt - strangely enough - that I was not too eager to have it done with. It has been almost two weeks since we first met, a couple of days since our conversation outside my apartment. I haven't heard from her since, and I must admit, I am fearing that I did, indeed, upset her enough to never want to speak to me again. I said some cruel things that day, and I wouldn't be too surprised if she asked my boss to cancel the interview completely. Could that be the reason I was called down here this morning?  
  


"Hiiragizawa?"  
  


I snapped to attention and looked at my boss. He finally noticed that he had company. I snorted and forced my voice to be neutral. "You wanted to see me, sir..?"  
  


He humphed, an action that sent his large, bushy moustache reverberating, and looked at me with his buggy eyes. In that snotty voice of his, the boss man said, "I have looked over the report so far..."  
  


"..and.." I prodded, wanting to get everything over with.   
  


"Don't rush me, boy. I must say, I was expecting better from you, but you are so young after all, I shouldn't have had my hopes so high." The way he said it in his sneering, almost taunting way, I felt like I was sitting in front of the teacher who supervised detention instead of a business man. "It is, however, satisfactory. I would suggest you improve your questions, though."  
  


"How would you want me to 'improve' them, then?" I asked, barely hiding the vehemence in my voice.   
  


He shifted the papers on his desk, searching for what I assumed was my folder (seriously, people with his level of organization should not be allowed to control businesses). Coming up with the said documents, he continued, "Here you ask her what her inspiration is. That simply won't do."  
  


"What is wrong with that question?"   
  


He looked down at me, sneering. "Our audience does not care for inspiration or aspiration. What difference does it make if the broad saw some Broadway show when she was young? There are enough sappy stories like that in the tabloid magazines. As you know, this gazette's intent is informational purposes only, not a source for gossip mongers to leech off. It is the money that is important. Ask her how much she makes annually, how much she receives per show, who her agent is and all that nonsense."  
  


It angered me to hear him speak such words. Since when has money been the most important thing in life? What about family and friends? What about happiness? Money can't bring happiness because it is a material object with an equally material purpose; because it comes and goes and then heralds avarice and woe, not passion or love. Money cannot hug you or kiss you, neither can it comfort you and sooth away your pain. And to hear this fool of a man say that, and about Tomoyo nonetheless, was even more preposterous. I forced down the ire building up in my gut.   
  


Standing up I headed for the door and my escape, throwing in a "I'll to keep that in mind" after me.   
  


"You better do, boy," my boss' voice drifted out when I was half way through the waiting area. "It's your only chance."   
  


I snorted mentally and stepped out into the cold air, heading home and looking forward to a nice, long hot shower. I needed to sort my head, to cool down and perhaps find a way to compromise on my dilemma. I knew that Tomoyo was not the type of person who was interested in money; it was her passion, her dedication to her art that propelled her forward. Asking her something like the cost of professional training would surely wound her; I did not want to be the knife that carved out that wound.   
  


I was twisting the keys inside my door's lock when something caught my eye. At my feet, wedged between the door and the doorframe, was an envelope. I reached for it, pushing the door open with one foot. I inspected the ivory envelope carefully, noting that no name or address had been written on the front. Was it perhaps a mistake? Did someone place it by accident by my door instead of my neighbours'? Or was it a love letter from a secret admirer, like my bravado kept on insisting? Disposing of my shoes and coat, I went into the living room, still inspecting the envelope cautiously.   
  


As I sat in the love seat, Spinel Sun curled himself at my side, purring gently. I scratched the soft spot just bellow his chin and proceeded to open my prize. The uncovered sheet was decorated in sakura blossoms with rows of neat, calligraphy-like scribbles. Who could it be from? I skimmed the contents, eager to solve the mystery of the author. To my astonishment and delight (which was a mystery all its own), I discovered that the writer was no other than Tomoyo.   
  


To make a long story brief, Tomoyo apologized for her uncalled-for absence, saying that she was too busy with the large mound of work and rehearsals she was duped into. That revelation did not surprise me. From the first moment I saw her, sitting by the frosted window and looking into the swirling dark of her coffee, I knew that she was one of those people who threw themselves completely into their work, sacrificed everything, dared anything as long as they reached that certain level of near perfection. Tomoyo's dancing - her passion and love - were more important then her health, or anything for that matter.   
  


The next lines in the letter startled me somewhat. I reread that section, then reread it a second time, and yet the carefully printed letters did not change. Tomoyo had apparently been invited to the opening gala in celebration of the rebuilding of the amphitheatre, and, the invite coming at such a short notice, had not been able to select a male escort. So, she was asking me if I would spare her the embarrassment and be her date for that evening. I was taken aback, I must admit. I had never attended anything as prestigious as a soiree full of celebrities, never even conceived the idea that I would be one day.   
  


Tomoyo asking me to accompany her was another thing entirely, one that left my bowels a jumbled mess and my knees into a pile of simpering goo. Was I prepared for such a commitment? Did Tomoyo's proposal mean anything beyond mere friendship? And if it did, why was I feeling so giddy suddenly?  
  


"Oh, Suppi, what should I do?" I asked the feline, receiving half-open blue eyes and more purring.   
  


Sighing, I untangled myself from the love seat and went to my bedroom to change into more comfortable clothes. As I entered the dimly lit room, I discovered that my decision was apparently already made for me. On my bed lay a neatly pressed tux, complete with a silky shirt and dress shoes (trousers included). I picked up the yellow sticky note and grinned crookedly at the smiley faces and hearts dancing around a "hope that'll persuade you to the dark side." So it was decided then, I was going on a date (though it wasn't one technically) with Tomoyo.   
  


* * * (A/N: I originally planned to end it here, but decided to be merciful ^___^)  
  


Later that day, I was pacing in my livingroom, the words "CAUTION: nervous wreck in front" spelled out on my forehead. I couldn't help but feel a bit apprehensive about tonight, various humiliating scenarios playing out in my head. What if I tripped on Tomoyo's dress and accidentally spilled champagne over my borrowed jacket? What if I sounded like a complete idiot in front of all the Big People? Worse yet, what would the various paparazzi think of me being Tomoyo's entourage?  
  


The letter had said that the pick-up car would arrive a quarter to nine. It was almost thirty to. Worry seized me. What if something happened to Tomoyo on the way here? What if she was stuck in a snow blizzard - even though this part of France is rather warm and rarely gets more than two inches of snow - or was a victim in a car accident? My edginess was beginning to irritate Spinel Sun, who settled for another nap after a round of "catch the mousy, which is actually Eriol's shoe lace."   
  


"Am I completely insane?" I asked him. I didn't even need his confirmation; anyone who would question a cat about one's own sanity must be a raving lunatic. The anticipation was propelling me closer toward a nervous breakdown. Just then, a brisk knock sounded on the door and I nearly flew to answer it.   
  


Outside stood an elderly man with pale, humorous eyes beneath bushy eyebrows and a teasing smile gracing the corners of his lips. He must be the chauffeur, I mused following the man into the evening air.   
  


As I stepped outside, my eyes nearly gravitated toward the earth. Parked along the curb side was a shiny, midnight-blue corvette, catching the attention of passerbys like a glorious flame drew moths toward its brilliance. Even I was impressed, which was a great accomplishment considering that it takes a miracle to leave any kind of impression on me.   
  


"This way, Monsieur," said the aging chauffeur, showing me to the open rear door and unwittingly waking me up from my almost-dream.  
  


Still slightly dazed, I slid into the passengers' seat beside Tomoyo who gave me a warm "hello" and a sunny smile. Strange; I didn't even realize that I missed it during the few days we've been apart. I looked over her attire and noted that nearly everything was covered by a warm-looking long coat; only the slight darkening around her eyes and more voluptuousness to her lips suggested that she was dressed for the occasion at all.   
  


"I'm glad you decided to come," she broke the silence, giving me another grateful smile.   
  


"Well, I didn't have much of a choice, did I? After all the trouble you had gone through to deliver this outfit for me, I couldn't possibly refuse, could I? How did you get into my apartment anyway?" That particular question had been plaguing me the entire day. I had three locks on my door, two of which only I had the keys to. How could she have enough time to get into my house, arrange the clothes so they looked fresh from the store and have time to leave before I came back?  
  


Giggling, she ducked her head and slid closer to me. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt to tell you, though there are certain advantages to not giving away my secret..."  
  


I mock growled and shook her by the shoulders in an intimidating fashion, though not powerfully enough to hurt. "I demand to know. I need to make sure a certain someone won't ever do that again."   
  


"All right, all right, I'll tell you, just don't dislocate my shoulder blades," she whimpered, but I could hear the jest in her voice and let go of her with a smile. "But you have to promise that you won't write that in your report; I can't ruin my good reputation so early into my career. No, I would save that for later. Perhaps create a huge controversy or a scandal..."  
  


I laughed and held my hand over my heart, a gesture I've seen on t.v. once. "I promise, I won't go ruining everything you've worked so hard to achieve so early into the game."  
  


"Good, then." Looking a bit fearful, she reached behind her head where her dark tresses were bundled in a stylish bun and removed a thin, black pin. "I picked your locks. I used to do that when I was young and wanted to get out of the house; my room was always locked from the outside. " She said sheepishly. I was stunned, more so than if I was hit with a shovel in the face. Tomoyo? Resorting to waif-ish tricks to get her way? That seemed as unlikely as potatoes sprouting from my ears.   
  


"Then why didn't you leave the letter with the clothes?"   
  


"I didn't think you'd notice it that way. But enough of that, I don't like discussing my... unusual habits." She said with a shrug. "Are you nervous?"   
  


"Me? Shouldn't I be the one asking you that?" After all, she was the internationally famous dancer, not I; she was the one who every aspiring artist looked up to for appearances and inspiration. Why should me being nervous matter, I was there only to support Tomoyo.   
  


She smiled almost wistfully. "Whenever you step out into the lights, even if you are not the main focal point, attention is just drawn to you. You have to appear a certain way, have to act another. I just thought the glam and all the attention would make you uncomfortable; you're not Mr. Impenetrable, you know."  
  


"I guess you're right." On both your statements, I wanted to add.   
  


The corvette stopped fluidly (I just love these kinds of cars, you just feel so important when riding one; nice mileage and handling, too) and the elderly chauffeur turned to us. "Mademoiselle, Monsieur? We have arrived."  
  


"Oh! Already?!" Tomoyo exclaimed, quickly looking over her person to make sure she looked all right. She glanced at me and gave a once over. With a panicked squeak, she reached out and rearranged my bow tie for me, smoothing out the wrinkles that were beginning to form on the silk of the fabric. "Here you go; that's much better. Ready?"   
  


I nodded and took her hand.   
  


"Then c'mon, it's show time."   
  


Just then, the passengers' door was opened by the valet. I carefully stepped out, only to be blinded by the sea of cameras and paparazzi.   
  


(tbc)

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Ya! I have everything sorted out! I even started on a rough draft for Danse Macabre (my next non-angst long ficcie), I even have the costumes picked out. I also started on rough notes of Goblin Market! *so happy, she dances on her spot*...Now all I have to do is plan Blue Divide and that detective fic...;___;   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	7. Rumba

A/N: Aa, it draws closer to the climax and I'm at the edge of my seat with anticipation. Oh, and Eriol's just a tad bit slow in this story. I'm having dental surgery tomorrow, so I decided to post this early. Merci si beaucoup de pour lire mon histoire! (I'm not actually French . . . ^^;;)   
  


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Chapter 7: Rumba  
  


I felt like I willingly stepped into a sea of blinding camera lights and noisy journalists. I was initially confused with the incredible intensity of the surrounding hubbub. I looked to Tomoyo and was amazed to discover that her poise was admirable-like. Out here, in front of cameras and overexcited paparazzi, she transmitted an almost un-daunting confidence - haughtiness almost. I marvelled at how she handled the crowd, how she was able to grasp them by the collar and drawthem to her. I saw many celebrities (most of whom I didn't even know about) and realized that they, too, had the same ethereal quality as Tomoyo.

Just before the onslaught of cameras and gossip mongers, Tomoyo shed her long coat and revealed the outfit underneath. I felt like something gargantuan had knocked the sense out of me. Tomoyo stood in a pale lavender dress that shimmered with light and ended just a couple of inches above her knees, which looked extremely sexy without being overly so. The fabric had an almost translucent quality and tended to bring out and accentuate the natural pallor of her skin, contrasting wonderfully with her dark hair. Tomoyo gazed at me almost shyly, looking at me from underneath her eyelashes. For a second there, I forgot how to breathe, and I wasn't the only one to be awed by her appearance.   
  


"Can we have your name?" I heard someone call out, and a second later about half a dozen microphones were shoved in my face, breaking the momentary spell.   
  


"H-hiiragizawa Eriol," I stuttered trying to shield my eyes from the glare of the cameras.   
  


"What relations do you have to Ms. Daidouji?" Another reporter asked, notebook and trusty pen in hand.   
  


"W-what - we're friends."   
  


"For how long have you known Ms. Daidouji?"   
  


"Not too long." I spared a glance in Tomoyo's direction, who, too, was combatting with the attack-force of the paparazzi, pleading her for help. "Save me," I whispered to her.   
  


"Gentlemen and ladies of the press," she announced, taking my hand in hers and steering me away from the noisy crowd. "I beg you excuse my friend and me, but we must get going; the party awaits. I assure you, I will personally give you all juicy details afterwards."  
  


Inside the grand ballroom it was considerably quieter though I could still hear the hubbub taking place outside. The walls were decorated with slightly modernized replicas of frescoes from the Rococo period and a large satiny-like tulle hung on the west wall. Several long dinner tables had been set up, with an extra large one for the buffet. The whole room had an almost dreamlike quality, with soft light and hushed voices of the occupants.  
  


When we arrived at our designated seat, I turned to Tomoyo and asked quietly. "Is this how you always feel at press conferences? Like a trapped animal?"  
  


She giggled softly and nodded with a lopsided smile. "Yes, that's what it's like to be famous. You never have a moment of privacy. Because you are famous and ordinary people look up to you in everything: looks, behaviour and companionships, you can't really be yourself. You have to play and act like role model."   
  


It was ironic, to say the least. I had always been the one interviewing somebody, and now it was I who was interviewed. I guess I never really realized, nor ever actually considered, how the celebrities feel. A couple of minutes out there in front of the lights felt like a giant hand pressing down on me; I cannot begin to imagine what it must feel like for someone who has to live like that every day and minute of their existence.   
  


"Should I just quit bludgeoning you with that interview, then?"  
  


"Of course not!" Tomoyo sounded appalled, her eyes going round.   
  


"But wasn't it you who just said that people like me didn't give any privacy to people like you?" I took a sip o f the punch in front of me, stifling a smirk while doing so.   
  


"That was different, though," she answered with a sigh. "You are a friend, I do not mind sharing my life with you because I trust you. You can't be guarded with people you trust, that would just show poor judgement and friendship skills, not to mention rude."  
  


I was taken aback. She considered me a friend? We have known each other for such a short time, and while I had the privilege of finding out about her past, she barely knew me at all. How can she suddenly have so much faith and trust in someone she barely met? Me especially?   
  


"Come, I want to introduce you to some people." She said, dragging me off to mingle with the celebrities.   
  


"This is my good friend, Stephan Mathieu," Tomoyo said when we stopped in front of a middle-aged man with hair the colour of rotten eggs. "Steph, this is Hiiragizawa Eriol."  
  


To tell the truth, I had never even heard of the man, but the hand offered to me was amiable and I felt obliged to show some courtesy to a friend of Tomoyo's. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Hiiragizawa-kun. I hope you're enjoying the party?"  
  


I nodded my head halfheartedly. Just before I was hauled off with Tomoyo again, I heard Mathieu say quietly: "Take good care of her, lad. She deserves it." I was confused by his statement. Perhaps I had misheard? Maybe the night's excitement and my imagination had ran away with me, though there is still a possibility...  
  


I followed Tomoyo for a time, chatting casually with some of the people she introduced me to. Later in the evening, I noticed that she stayed less frequently at my side, spinning like a bumble bee to and fro, never stopping for more than a minute at each place of interest. I was somewhat discomfited because of that, I felt as if she wasn't the Tomoyo that I knew, but Ms. Tomoyo of the entertaining world, just as the other people here were. I felt as if I didn't belong, like I was from a different world where everything was dimmed in comparison to this one.   
  


I sighed and made my way to the terrace, saying polite hellos to anyone in my path. Night had set in full swing with many brilliant pin pricks of stars against the backdrop of the velvety sky. I leaned against the railing and looked out the River Rhone, marvelling at the incandescent lights floating along its surface. It seemed as if a million fireflies had decided to perform a dance on the surface of the inky water. If I looked to the right, I would see a shadow of the enormous amphitheatre. The breeze was cool, as expected during the winter season, but I found it soothing, almost.   
  


I heard light footsteps behind me drawing near.   
  


"How do you do it?"  
  


"What?" Tomoyo appeared by my side, also gazing out toward the river.   
  


"This," I gestured around me, to the people interacting with each other inside, to her and myself. "How can you act so free and careless and open with me and yet be so guarded and strong out there?" Argh, I just sounded like a complete fool. I barely understood the words I was saying, but I felt some kind of need to reveal to her what was on my mind.   
  


She looked at me for a long moment, longer than I would have dared to estimate. I was beginning to wonder if I offended her in some way (she is always so unpredictable) before I heard her replying, "I am the way I am because I have no choice. I do not like being bottled up in the cage of glamour, so I try to stay myself with those I feel close to. But I cannot be myself in front of the public because I'm afraid they won't like the real me, you know? I - it's like protecting yourself from harm."  
  


Somehow, I understood what she meant with perfect clarity. One question was nagging at me though, "But, isn't this where you belong? These people are so much like you. Don't you feel closer to them than with me?"   
  


Another long, silent moment passed between us. I thought I saw something different in Tomoyo's eyes, a flicker or shadow of something I couldn't quite place my finger on. With a sigh, she answered, "Even though I have much more in common with them, Eriol, I cannot fully trust them. I feel like I'm playing with a double-edged sword here. I can't reveal my secrets to them because they're too close to the media, and I can't be their friend because I feel I am too different from them, but I have to have connections with them. With you, I'm not afraid to say what I feel or think; I'm just comfortable with you."   
  


"I think... I think I understand what you mean."   
  


"You know what really gets to me?"  
  


"What?"  
  


"It is the way our society looks at beauty," there was almost ...vehemence in her voice.   
  


"You mean art?"  
  


She shook her head - cutely, I might add - and inhaled the cool air. "Not just art, the way people see one another. Women are expected to look one way, men another. Whatever happened to individuality? No one ever takes the time to consider the beauty of nature, it is the internet and television that draws their attention, not the variation of foliage during autumn or butterflies during summer."  
  


I remained quiet, sensing as if she had more to say.   
  


"...And art...art..." she sighed deeply. "Art is no more than superfluous ideals and expensive foolishness. People are forgetting what it is about, forgetting that it is not about the quality, quantity or just plain popularity." Here she chuckled dryly. "Have you noticed that? It just does not matter if you're talented or just damn brilliant, as long as you have the money and the social connections, you'll be famous. And then, as long as you keep a steady flow of second rate products, you're guaranteed infamy-dom." Tomoyo finished with another sigh and looked up to the starry sky.  
  


I saw her shiver a bit and noticed that she only donned a light shawl over the light dress. I placed my arm around her shoulders, as I'm sure many guys in my place would dream to, and drew her closer. "It can't be that bad, can it?" I whispered, stirring the faint hairs on her nape.   
  


She laid her head on my shoulder, "No, it's not. I'm just being a bit biassed out here; venting out my frustration with the world."   
  


"If it helps, I also disagree with the way the systems works."   
  


She smiled up at me, perhaps the only real smile she'd given out this evening, and I was very relieved to see it. "That does help a bit, but just a little."  
  


"If you dislike the way art is viewed today, then why do you continue? Why not give up?"  
  


She sighed and turned to the stars again. "I just can't help it, Eriol. Ever since I stared dancing, I just couldn't stop. It's like this ... force is propelling me forward. I guess the only way to describe it is: love."  
  


Love?  
  


I had never experienced love, neither did I believe in it. But what if she said was true? How could just a tiny thing like love do so much? Was it capable of achieving the impossible, like Tomoyo implied?  
  


Tomoyo snuggled closer to me, and I blushed at the feel of her body pressed against mine. Her shivering had stopped, but I still did not remove my arm from her shoulders. There was something so familiar in holding her this way, like this is where I belonged. But that must have been the champagne and delusion talking.   
  


"Watch the stars with me?" she almost purred.  
  


"Sure," I murmured back.   
  


I stole another glance at Tomoyo and was yet again amazed at how beautiful she looked enveloped in starlight. I have spent another day with her, and yet I felt as if mere hours had turned into an eternity. I found out more about her today than any amount of interviews would allow. I learned that she, too, had her deep and sad moments, and that I very much didn't like seeing her miserable. I discovered that she was more than a girl with an angelic appearance and a pretty dress; she was so much more and I suddenly wanted to know exactly how much. Turns out, I didn't watch the stars as much as I watched her.   
  
  
  


tbc

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I want to write something angsty . . . and I will, after this story is finished. This chapter was more me taking about art through Tomoyo than anything else, sorry 'bout that. And since so many people have been asking me what happened to the candy in Your Sweet Lips... I really don't know ^^;; But I guess it melted, it was one of those sweets you suck on.


	8. Flamenco

A/N: *sob* I feel like someone had hit my face with a sledgehammer; sooo painful... and I've now gained a very unpretty lisp. Now, I don't know what to call this, but "cruel" comes to mind... *goes on lamenting about the poor, poor state of her teeth*... At least the drugs are strong (I can't stop the seemingly perennial migraine because of it). That and I've been hit with the laziness bug, but I'll try to post the next chapter up on Saturday, Monday at the latest =^__^=

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Chapter 8: Flamenco  
  


I glanced down at Tomoyo and realized that she still had her head on my shoulder, slumbering quietly. I flushed crimson and prayed that no one - especially gossip mongers - happened to witness us in such a compromising situation. I'm experienced enough to know that "just friends" did not accidentally fall asleep in each other's arms while stargazing. I did not want to plague Tomoyo with a nasty rumour about our practically nonexistent relationship. And besides, Tomoyo had had a very tiring day and deserved a bit of rest, even if I was the one she preferred to rest on.   
  


I drew her even closer, my arm clasping the other, completely enveloping her in my embrace. The position we were in was so innocent, like we were two childhood friends huddled together after a storm, I didn't even bother seeing something beyond the surface. I didn't think that it would matter, in any case. Tomoyo is a celebrity, not only that, but she is also beautiful, caring and charming. I am a commoner, a reporter - supposedly her worst enemy; she deserves better than I.   
  


"You know, I'm not really asleep." Her voice sounded next to my left ear and I nearly jumped out of my tuxedo at the feel of her breath tickling my nape. 

"It certainly looked that way to me." I replied, fighting off the squeak in my own voice.   
  


"Well, then you were certainly wrong," she said with a smile. "There is no way in all the Earth I would miss a chance to spend my time with you like this."

I reddened at her comment, at the same time thanking the darkness of the evening and cursing my sudden tendency to blush. "Then if you weren't asleep, why didn't you say something? It would have spared me the embarrassment."  
  


She laughed and removed her head from my shoulder, taking with it the warmth that I didn't even notice was there. "You? Embarrassed? Now that is something I definitely can't afford to miss."  
  


"Ha, ha. You probably did it on purpose," I said under my breath. Knowing her, she probably pretended to be asleep so she could catch me at an awkward moment. I decided to change the subject before she could start questioning me about my actions. "What do you say to going inside? It's getting rather chilly and I'm sure your admirers are beginning to miss you."  
  


She stole a glance inside the auditorium, from which soft murmurs of conversation were making their way to my ears. I thought I heard someone call out Tomoyo's name, and mentally frowned at the implication that she would have to leave me. For a moment there, I thought that we were the only ones existing in the world.   
  


"No. I think this party has grown a bit old and stale. Just listen to them talk; it's just useless gibber. It's like they're completely oblivious to the little people below them; personal entertainment is their only goal. I have a different idea," she whispered, still looking out into the crowd.   
  


"And what might that be?"   
  


"I want to dance," she stated bluntly, as if that explained everything without actually saying anything.   
  


"Here? In the middle of a gala, with celebrities and paparazzi hanging off your every move?" I was extremely perplexed. Did she accidentally hit her head on something while I wasn't looking and had gone bonkers?  
  


She looked at me as if I had suddenly grown an extra appendage or turned purple on the spot. "Of course not."  
  


"Then what do you propose we do?"   
  


"I know a nice club nearby. Want to join me? It should be fun."  
  


I had never just gone out and had fun, though that didn't stop my friends from attempting to "bring me out into the society." So, when Tomoyo first proposed the idea, a "no" came straight away to my mind, more out of habit than anything else. I had classes in the morning, and a costly term paper due; I had no time for last minute compromises. Doing this with her, however, would mean breaking away from my ritualistic lifestyle, even if for just one night, and didn't I ultimately want to change my life from bland to exciting? I saw the light dance in Tomoyo's eyes; I could not bring myself to extinguish it.   
  


"Only if you promise to bring me home right after."  
  


She laughed, a joyous sound that rung in the night, overshadowing all other noises. "Deal."  
  


The two of us snuck into the front parlour, almost like children sneaking out of their beds before dawn at Christmas. I sensed that Tomoyo was having fun already, though she didn't exactly voice it. Her cheeks were flushed again and her eyes were sparkling mischievously, laughing and teasing anyone foolish enough to stay idle or bar our path. After donning my coat on, I made my way to the front door, only to be stopped by Tomoyo's hand on my arm.   
  


"No, not that way. The media should still be out there," she whispered close to my ear. "We wouldn't want to be caught in the midst of our escape."  
  


"Lead the way and I'll come en suite!" I called back, following her lead to the back of the auditorium.   
  


Forget children at Christmas, this felt more like another James Bond sequel. Sneaking around under everybody's noses had a certain appeal to it. I felt like any minute now I would be caught unawares in the act, as if I committed a crime and captured red-handed with my gorgeous sidekick. That knowledge sent my adrenaline skyrocketing, the beat of the moment pulsing intensely in my veins. The same kind of thrill you get when on your first roller coaster ride or when about to reveal your affections to your secret crush.   
  


"Ready?" she asked, stopping her progress at the door, tentative fingers brushing slightly over the metal of the handle. "You know that once we leave, we cannot go back."  
  


Even though it was not said, I got that same impression anyway. There was something so final in doing this with her, as if just one night - a couple of hours at the least - would make a world of a difference. As if by accepting her offer, I had also sealed my fate for the rest of my life. I confirmed with a nod, and with that the two of us pushed at the heavy door and rushed out into the cool air. 

"We're free!" Tomoyo exclaimed, arms thrown wide and waving in great semicircles.   
  


I hid a smirk underneath my bangs. "If you were so desperate to get out, why did you come at all?"   
  


With a laugh and a cocky flick of her hand, she turned to me. "Eriol, Eriol, Eriol. Have I taught you nothing? That was merely for appearances sake; I had to come. And now that the stuffiness is behind us, what say you to hurrying up to that club I promised you?"  
  


"Impatient, are we?" I retuned, the smirk still undetected beneath the shield of my hair.   
  


"I always am," she said with a shrug. "Guess I never really had time - nor attention - for patience."   
  


"I'll make a note of that."  
  


From then on, we walked in a companionable silence, the intoxicating rush we felt before ebbing to a dull throb. Tomoyo would occasionally shrink away from the incoming traffic and hide behind my back, and I would let her with a furtive laugh. I can't really explain what I was feeling at that instant, a curious mixture of contentment (which has been happening too often as of late) and bubbly anticipation. I had never done anything so spontaneous, so outrageously out of character and it made me feel new and rejuvenated, as if awoken from a long and tedious sleep. 

"So, tell me about yourself." She suddenly broke the quiet of the night, shattering the almost tranquil moment and our stride.   
  


I stopped mid-thought and turned to look at her, an eloquent brow arched in incredulity. "What's this all of a sudden?"  
  


"It's just that, I have told you nearly everything about me, and I know nearly nothing about you. I get curious sometimes, you know?"   
  


She had a point. To tell the truth, I had purposely steered her away from asking personal questions about me, more to protect myself from harm than anything else, like an automaton in self-defence mode. But looking at it now, I must have seemed very selfish to her. After all, she had no problem about revealing herself to me, so why should I? If she was able to trust ne wholeheartedly, shouldn't I be able to do the same?  
  


"What do you wish to know?" I asked her, still uncertain of my decision.   
  


"Everything," she replied with all sincerity, looking up at me seriously. "I want to know everything. Anything you want to give me, at the least."   
  


There was some shrill, annoying voice at the bak of my head telling me to back off, to run and hide far away, where nothing could ever touch me again. I ignored it, summoning all the nerve I had and forced down the irksome jolt of my stomach muscles. I cleared my throat, finding it all too tight for my liking, and began my tale.   
  


"I was born in a small town in Japan before moving here. My mother was Japanese and worked for a small publishing company. My father was an English foreigner who had a taste for exotic women," I paused to swallow past the lump that formed in my throat. "They met on a chance occasion, as if Fate itself had lent a helping hand. At first, Mother refused his advances, not wanting to get involved in a not-serious relationship... And he didn't stop pursuing her. One July night, when she was walking home from grocery shopping, he met her on the street, drunk beyond the point of delirium."   
  


I stopped to see if Tomoyo was paying attention, hoping that she was not and at the same time wishing that she was. She hadn't torn her gaze from my face. I continued. "He confronted Mother about a frivolous nothing. When she refused to be swayed, he attacked her, ripped her dress and... raped... her... in the dark of an alley... The product of that... you see before you."

"....Eriol... No..." I heard the audible choke and whimper in her voice. Before I had a chance to fully turn to her, Tomoyo's arms were flung around my neck, elfin face pressed into my chest. "...I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..."  
  


"Don't worry about it, that happened a long time ago and out of our league to change now," I told her smoothing her hair. "After... that night," I went on, unable to stop the flow of words from leaking out of my mouth, "my father apologized to mother, and payed her heavily for the damage done. But after... I... was discovered, he hightailed it out of the country, never to be seen or heard. My mother was devastated after that, and with me in the coming, I doubt she would have been able to support the two of us. That's when my Uncle, Clow Reed, stepped in. He took Mother into his home, brought me out and raised me like his own son, and I considered him my real father. Heck, for all I knew at the time, he was my father."

I stopped, glancing at the dark head still pressed into my chest. Tomoyo's soft sobs had stopped, though there was a slight twitch in the shoulders, as if she was having a hiccoughing fit and had a hart time concealing it.  
  


"Do you know how it feels?" I continued with bitterness etched in my voice, spiteful bile rising up my throat. "Do you know how it feels when you walk to school in the morning, saying 'hello' to everyone you see and hear nothing but nasty rumours about you? Do you know how it feels to learn that you are a mistake, a bastard child as a result of a horrible misfortune? To hear that from your own snotty-nosed teachers? They said my mother was a common whore who purposely got into that... that man's pants in order to get money from the government. They called me a 'half-bred', a pathetic, worthless nothing. And you know what? I believed them. I truly believed in all their lies. I was so afraid of what they said about me, I couldn't even bring myself to have friends. "  
  


Anger swelled in my gut, churning in my veins. "God, I wish I could find that bastard and repay him his overdue." I took a deep breath to calm myself, to shake off the murderous urge fighting to break loose in me. That has not happened since I was a child and I didn't want a repeat occurrence.   
  


"We moved to London not long after my sixth birthday and at that time I couldn't be happier. Then one night, my uncle went to pick up my mom from the restaurant where she worked as a waitress. They didn't come back for a long time. It was almost three days later when somebody actually bothered to tell me that there was a car crash - some idiot trying to impress his buddies - and that my mother and uncle were involved. Clow was killed instantly ... I wasn't even allowed to stay by my mother's side when she died a couple of days after. I was left completely alone.   
  


"I lived in an orphanage for almost a month after that," I said after another deep breath. "And then my cousin, Nakuru, showed up and brought me to live with her in Nagasaki. She was the one that raised me from then on. I moved here when I was sixteen. I wanted to pursue a career in politics, wanted to make a difference to the world, you know? So I got myself a job, a position in a school for gifted - I had always exceeded academically - and lived on. I currently attend the university to get my bachelors degree in English Lit.. And that has been my life thus far."   
  


I stopped, my story coming to a draw. I was expecting Tomoyo to say something - anything - but she said nothing. In fact, she had not uttered a single syllable since I told her the truth of my... birth. I was thankful for that; I did not want her to feel pity for me, and I did not want her to console me. She had asked me to tell her about myself, and I did. Oddly enough, I did not feel depressed at remembering my past, more saddened than anything; sad that it was I who had to live through it, sad that I was powerless to change it, and a bit happy that it was there in the past and not now in the present. 

I looked at Tomoyo, and she just stared back at me, her doe eyes seeming even larger in the night. And in those enthralling amethyst depths, I could see all the compassion, all the sorrow and understanding she was feeling but was too afraid to voice. Now that I have revealed myself to her, I felt almost relieved, a large burden lifted off my chest. I appreciated that, too.   
  


"Well, c'mon then," she broke the silence between us with a cheery smile and pushed me into a walk. "The night isn't going to wait for us while we stumble through Memory Lane."   
  


"You're right," I answered, a smirk returning to my voice. "We have to get to that club before it closes." I was glad that she decided not to prod any farther. It still amazed me how she could change the atmosphere between us so suddenly and drastically, and I thanked her mentally for that as well.   
  


The one thing that I didn't tell Tomoyo was that she was the first person I had ever told my story since my parents passed away. She didn't need to know that. I would leave that as an unspoken gift from me to her. A sort of 'thanks' for all her kindheartedness.  
  


The rest of the walk was considerably lighter, with bits of fun conversation here and there. Not long after, we arrived at the club she mentioned. It was at the back of nearly deserted street. It looked like your average apartment building, rows of neat doors facing us. And I would have believed it was an apartment complex if it weren't for the music blasting behind one of the doors.   
  


"Are you sure we're in the right place?" I asked her jokingly.   
  


"Are you questioning my truthfulness?" She mimicked my tone.   
  


"No, just whether the punch we had at the party has impaired your judgement in any way."   
  


She laughed lightly, changing the mood again. Opening the door to the club, she smiled almost beguilingly and waited for me to follow. "Come," she whispered, taking my hand in hers and drawing me away, into the darkness and the music. 

(tbc)   
  


* * * * * * * * 

Please dun kill me! It was a spur of the moment kinda thing! I'm incredibly sorry, and believe me, it hurt me more than it hurt you ;____;   
  


Some senseless ramble, has absolutely nothing to do with the fic (just to take a load off of myself):   
  


I've just finished replaying the ending of Final Fantasy IX again. Oh, Gawd! The first three or four times I finished it, I was bawling like a baby! O good ol' Final Fantasy, you just gotta love it, despite its tendency to be a little cliché-ed. Aa. Why does Venus Sigil have to be so hard to get? I still can't dodge more then 95 bolts in a row... And don't even get me started on Tidus' ultimate weapon; 0:00 time? Are they insane, that's almost as unlikely as Datto actually levelling up?! At least I finally have a good handle on Blitzball...


	9. Lambada

A/N: This is it; written along the lines of this chapter is the scene that inspired it all... Gawd! I've been waiting it seems for forever to actually write this (and can't believe I'm actually doing it. Gawd, this would be a very difficult chapter to write. Why did it have to be in Eriol's POV?). Please don't kill me!

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Chapter 9: Lambada

I followed Tomoyo into the dimly lit facility, immediately surprised at the pulsing beat, even before we actually entered the main chamber. Stepping through the arched doorway, I was further amazed. The lights were scattered throughout the room, hidden in strategic places, like behind a faux pillar and sheathed by a rainfall of fake greenery. Hazy smoke, whether from the smokers in the room or the fog machine I couldn't quite tell, wafted in and around me. Rhythmic music blasted from the giant speakers, and I found the beat very addictive. I estimated roughly four dozen occupants, dancing along with the music, sitting at the bar or in private booths. 

This has been the first time I had actually placed my foot inside this kind of establishment. Sure, I went to parties, though more frequently than I would have preferred, mostly dragged along with friends, just for the sake of wasting time on a Friday night. At those occasions I would sometimes shrink into the shadows, trying to escape the lure of the crowd. I felt awkward, scared almost, about associating myself with your average teenager. 

I smirked mentally as I remembered an instance not too long ago when I was nearly bludgeoned into a drinking contest at such a party, which I regretted heartily – my alcohol tolerance level is near zero. 

Those, however, were parties that were held by schoolmates, nothing fancy, a couple of beers, loud music and some misfit guests. Finding myself suddenly in a club (a place that I never expected to find myself) the feeling was exhilarating. The atmosphere was simply intoxicating, nearly suffocating me with its force. 

"It's something, isn't it?" I heard Tomoyo's voice close to me, and I finally realized that I hadn't uttered a sound since we left the cold of the night. 

"Definitely not what I expected," I answered, following her to the bar. 

She disposed of her coat, gesturing me to do the same. And thus came back the breathtaking dress. I instantly noticed the appreciative stares she received from the guys closest to her, and I suddenly felt a jolt of something at the bottom of my stomach. I almost envied the smile Tomoyo sent their way, wishing it were only me she smiled at. Following her instructions, I removed my coat and my suit, purely for comfort, and settled next to her at the bar. 

"'ey! Good evening, hon," called the portly bar tender, practically warping out of nowhere in front of us. "Haven't seen you around 'ere in a while. Where have ya been?" 

I raised an eyebrow at the familiarity between the two. "I've used to come here often," Tomoyo leaned in to whisper, elaborating about her relations with the older man. To him, she said, "Some water please, Alf."

"Sure thing, hon. You'd tell me about your friend later, wouldn't ya?" The bar tender asked with a crooked grin. 

"As if I have a choice." 

We sat in silence, watching the moving bodies on the dance floor, too entranced in what they were doing to pay attention to anything else. Soon, Tomoyo's drink arrived, as promised, and she embarked on a carefree chat with the bar tender. I could tell that she wanted to be out there, among the dancers, getting lost in the music, but was staying put simply for my sake. It pained me to see the longing in her eyes and knowing that I was partially responsible for her sombre mood. But I was afraid to do what she wanted of me; I feared letting myself get loose and becoming like the rest of the people in the club, so I opted to wallow in my cowardice and stay in the shadows. She knew that, I have no idea how, but she knew of my secret apprehension and lingered at my side because of it. 

"You can go, if that's what you want," my voice broke the silence that lapsed between us. 

She looked up from her glass of water, uncertainty and maybe even hopefulness crossing her orbs. "Are you sure?" 

"It would be a waste of time if you at least didn't enjoy yourself." 

"But, what about you?" She asked, still concerned about me. That's another thing I didn't get about her. Why did she care more about the people around her than her own happiness? 

"You do not want an old sourpuss like me to spoil your fun. Go, dance your soul's content."

She glanced longingly at the crowd again, nibbling on her bottom lip. "All right, but you must promise to join me if you decide that sitting idle is just too boring." 

I nodded and watched her walk away, deeper into the sea of moving bodies and the heart of the music. I felt jealousy claw its way up my throat when I scouted her dancing with another man, her body almost scandalously close to his. From all the way at the bar, I could tell the guy was handsome, and no doubt a brainless, Romeo wannabe. She placed her hands on his shoulders while his wandered to nestle on the curve of her waist. I could see him whisper something into her ear and she giggled in response, looking almost shyly away. I swallowed at the nasty bile frothing at the pit of my stomach and ordered a whiskey, just to appear as if I was doing something other than spying on her. 

She had a right to enjoy herself, just like I said. Whether it was with another man or me made no difference. Or at least that's what I kept on chanting to myself as I watched her and the man-slut move their bodies to the rhythm. 

"She's something, no?" I heard the old bartend drawl in, shaking his head in her direction and at the same time keeping his attention on cleaning a giant beer mug. 

I glanced at her though it was completely unnecessary, I understood perfectly who "she" was. She had now abandoned the first guy and moved to another. "Yeah." 

"I've known her for a while, now," he continued. " Saw her come 'ere bawling her eyes out when her mother passed away. She cried on my shoulder, too. Sweet girl, she is. Cares very much about her loved ones." He didn't need to say it; I already knew from experience. "'ave seen her in every mood possible. Sad an' joyful. Never seen her this happy though. Means she either got what she wanted or it's the company she keeps."

I looked strangely at the man, wondering what he was skirting around. Before I could utter a syllable, he continued, "Don't hurt her, boy. She'll break if you do."

I stared at him, my jaw slightly askew. What did the old coot mean by that? Tomoyo was not a fragile doll to be shattered with mere words or actions. She was strong and could handle anything. And I wasn't about to go and cause her pain, in any case. The stout bar tender went off to service another customer, leaving me with my whiskey and jealous thoughts again. I scanned the dance floor and couldn't find Tomoyo anywhere, which sent a few unpleasant possibilities racing to my mind. 

"Having fun?" Tomoyo's voice was right next to me, and I wondered not for the first time how she was able to sneak up on me so often. 

"You could say that." There was no way I could tell her that seeing her among those vultures did strange things to me. And I certainly couldn't tell her that I wanted to be the one she laid her eyes on, that my arms wound around her, not theirs. Those thoughts were forbidden, as was the music and effect it was having on me. 

She ordered another glass of water and took a long swing, after which she stared into the crystalline bubbles against the glass. It reminded me of the first time I met her oh so many weeks ago (or at least it seemed at the time). I could see her brow crease in concentration, as if deliberating on a life and death situation.

"Want to dance?" She suggested, not looking at me. "Unless you don't want to leave your vigilance...?" 

"Is that an invitation?" 

"Not if you don't want it to be," Tomoyo answered, finally looking up at me. She smiled at me and I nearly drowned in the sensation. The sensuous curve of her lips and the dark, hazy almost, look in her eyes promised me things I had never even dreamed of. I gulped at what I saw, too afraid to answer yet too involved not to. 

"I can't dance; haven't since Nakuru made me watch 'Shall we dance?' with her... And I don't want to prevent you from having fun." 

"And if you actually expect me to believe that, I might just have to be seriously offended." She scoffed, hands on hips, though the gesture didn't have the desired effect in the darkness of the club. "Just one dance. Please? And then we can leave."

I didn't have much of a choice since she was already on her feet and dragging me onto the dance floor. It was darker in the club than I originally thought; I could barely distinguish the faces of the people around me, just Tomoyo in front of me. She glanced over her shoulder at me, seeing if I was still following her. Maybe it was the dim lights, music, or just too much whiskey on my part, but she seemed different. A fine sheen of sweat coated her forearms and the portion of her back that was exposed by the low cut, glistening slightly with the foreplay of lights. Her lips were parted, moistened slightly by the water she had. Her eyes were large and dark, seemingly endless, practically beckoning me to her. At this point, I had to intention of turning back. 

We reached an indistinct part of the crowd just as a new song started. This one had an almost Latino feel to it, with a fluid Spanish guitar into and sultry vocals. Tomoyo stopped and turned to me, eyes still holding mine. She grabbed my hands and placed them on her waist, just like with that guy, her own hands snaking around my neck. She pressed herself against me, an action that sent the end of every nerve in my body tingling with the sensation, and began to move with the rhythm, and soon I joined her. 

I remember how she mentioned once about getting lost in the sheer beat of the music, and how I didn't understand it at the time. But now, her body moving lithely, so close to mine, the sound pulsing in my veins and churning along my blood stream, I think I finally understood what she meant. There was something so raw in the movement, so free and passionate that I forgot about everything but her.

"_Te quiero..._" she whispered along with the song (A/N: ^___^). It didn't even matter what those words meant, just her and the music. 

The sway of those maddening hips so close to my own nearly sent me groaning, drawing me deeper into the sheer sensation of freedom and the wild beat of the music. I could feel the heat radiating from her body through the thin fabric of her dress, reaching through all the layers of my own clothing. Her hands were entangled in my mane, running freely. My vision was getting blurry, only her eyes and smile swimming before me; I wondered just how much whiskey I had (nil tolerance, remember?).

"I think you're a bit overdressed for this occasion," she murmured in my ear, and _oh!_ the pleasure I got when her lips accidentally brushed against my nape when we were jostled by the crowd. It sent an electrifying thrill along my spine and my skin was tingling where her lips grazed. Before I could realize, her feline fingers were undoing the buttons of my pristine shirt, sneaking to touch the hot skin beneath. Her skin felt cool against my own, making me shiver in delight at the feathery touch. And I let her do as she pleased; I was too lost to care for the consequences, enjoying myself too much to even care. 

The next thing I know, her fingers were replaced by her lips, trailing delicate kisses down my collarbone. Everything was just too much, the music, the alcohol, the lights and her lips. Oh! those sensuous lips. I was gone beyond the point of return. Before I could even comprehend my actions, I was unclasping the elegant bun at the top of her head, slicing my fingers though the silky locks. I hadn't even realized how much I wanted to feel them in my digits until I've actually done it. 

"Mmm....Eriol," she purred against my nape, the lips brushing skin again. 

God, I wanted to feel those lips against my own. The need was almost overwhelming, threatening to choke me with its absolute strength. I raised her head, cupping it in my hands. Her eyes were heavy-lidded, the long lashes almost brushing against her cheekbones. From what was available to me, I could tell that her pupils were dilated, making the violet orbs appear almost the colour of midnight, passion-filled and begging. I stroked her cheeks with my thumbs, savouring their softness compared to the callousness of my own skin. With a deep breath I leaned it, capturing the mouth that has captivated me from the first moment I saw her. 

The sensation was heavenly. Somewhere at the back of my mind, I had wondered how her lips would feel, taste? They were sweeter than anything I could possibly conceive, better than chocolate, welcoming and beguiling me. I plunged in and ravaged, she gave and took just as much. It was an intricate dance all its own, lips crushing against lips, tongues vying for dominance. Her hands were moving along my chest while my lips sought the curve of her nape. It was dizzying and dazzling, a whirlwind of bewitching colour and sound and taste. 

The music suddenly stopped, a second in time to change the tracks, and in that instant, the magic spell was broken. I could still feel the wild rhythm pumping in my bloodstream, coursing through my brain and limbs. It was a moment before I realized that I was standing in the middle of an equally transfixed crowd, my shirt agape and nearly falling off my shoulders, my hair dishevelled beyond any recognition. I felt the tingle of where Tomoyo's lips and hands touched like sensual caresses. My own lips were swollen and buzzing with the sensation. I opened my eyes, seeing Tomoyo in a similar state. 

I shook off the almost-dream that has veiled my eyes for the entire duration of the song and stared at her in horror. _What have I done?_

(tbc)

* * * * * * * * 

Ai... I feel very depressed. I've been doing some reading (more than usual, that is) and have come to the conclusion that: a) I suck as a writer and should just quit while I'm ahead and b) I make myself sick with those kinds of thoughts. But seriously, I've looked at the writing styles of many authors (classical and fanfiction wise) and I just feel like I'm nothing compared to them, granted that most of them are older than me by at least a decade. C'mon, I can't even write a good sensual scene, and I want to actually achieve something in life?! Oh, and I wanted so badly for you to see the look Tomoyo had (I'm about to break out in tears at this point). But I guess the only way to get better is to write more, ne? Well, at least you peoples are enjoying my stories (that makes, like what, two of you, me excluded). 


	10. Tango

A/N: *blink* *blink* Wow... you people are so kind... *daubs at tears* Thanks so much for your encouragement, it means a lot to me. I still have doubts (will never stop having them) but I guess everyone is beset by them once in a while, thanks for clearing some of mine. As you will be able to tell by this chapter, Eriol is still pretty much dense (I seriously can't control him). And you're right, I wouldn't want to turn this into an R-rated fic so late in the story....

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Chapter 10: Tango 

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What have I done? 

I started at Tomoyo, paralysed with fear and shock and disbelief. Another fast-beat song had started, enveloping the room in its rhythm. I could barely notice. There was only Tomoyo's shock and my own mirrored in her eyes. The tension between was almost chocking, so thick, I could physically feel it pressing on me. 

At first, I felt outrage, at myself, at her for what happened. Then came doubt; was what just happened a figment of my imagination mixed with the maddening music and the intoxicating feel of the night? Or was it real, happening to me in the waking world? And if so, what did it mean? Was she, too, experiencing the same aftermath effect, one that started somewhere in the bowls and spread in great waves to every joint and digit? Did I have the same look at this moment as she, half-lidded and scarlet-faced, breath coming out in nervous gasps? 

Then I began to think of the consequences of this...deed. As I said once upon a time, whatever I do now will make a direct impact on what will happen tomorrow, and that will completely change my life. I didn't know how our escapade not five minutes ago would impact me in the future, and that's exactly what I feared. I dreaded that somehow, somewhere in the middle of things, I had gotten too involved, my emotions running wanton. I didn't know where Tomoyo stood with me, nor did I know where I was stationary. The uncertainly would gnaw at me later, drive me insane, I just knew it. But did I dare to pry at this new development, to probe and test how far the limits stretched? What would happen if I did? 

"We...should... discus this, I think," Tomoyo broke the speeding train that were my thoughts, and suddenly I found that things were moving too fast, too rapidly for me to catch up to them. 

Before I could even realize, a confirmation was escaping my lips and I was following her again, this time to escape the crowd and the music. Outside the little club, the bitter wind howled, ruffling my hair and sending my shirt flying. I hadn't thought that maybe, just maybe, it would be cold outside and that a flimsy shirt would not protect me from its sting. I guess I owe that to the turmoil inside my head. Tomoyo apparently had suffered from the same forgetfulness bug. She wrapped her arms tightly around her quaking shoulders, rubbing numb fingers over equally numb skin. I wanted to swathe her in my arms, wanted to use my body to shield hers from the onslaught of the cold. That, however, was the last thing I would do in this situation, and I think she understood that. 

We stood there in constrained silence, looking pointedly _away_ from each other, pretending that nothing happened and that we were back to square one. I could feel the nervousness seeping off of her, permeating the air. I had come to know Tomoyo as confident, and un-dauntingly strong, to see her practically quaking in her shoes was revolutionary almost. An eye-opener, a conformation that she wasn't impenetrable. 

"So..." I began awkwardly, feeling the remnants of heat and embarrassment creep into my cheeks despite the cold pinching at my skin. "....that was... something."

"Sure was...." Tomoyo replied, looking every bit as self-conscious as I felt. I felt oddly pleased that she was as flustered as I. The knowledge did marvellous things to my male ego. 

"What happened back there," I took a leaping and brave first step, coming closer to her and the questions riddling my mind. 

She looked almost warily at the club's entrance. "I don't know. I just let the music... guide me, take me whole. I surrendered everything to the rhythm. I couldn't think, just move along with the beat. And the sensation of dancing and the freedom was so intoxicating...."

Her thoughts and feelings echoed mine in almost perfect detail. I could still feel the pumping of the blood in my veins, the maddening, seducing beat no more than a trace of memory. Everything that happened was just like a very detailed, very surreal dream. Despite that, I still felt as if something monumentally huge had occurred. 

"I know what you mean, I felt it, too," I confirmed her unspoken questions. I took another gallant step toward her. I was drawn to her, just like at that moment, when the music seized me; I couldn't pull away. It was the same force rushing through my blood. 

"It's completely insane," she said breathlessly, inching closer to my warmth. 

"Improbable, impossible and preposterous," I almost whispered back. 

There was a spark of something in her eyes as she looked up at me, a flicker of the secret desire laying dormant in both our souls. Desire for the touch of another human being, of an attractive member of the opposite sex. I didn't ever realize how ridiculously attracted to her I was until I couldn't keep myself away from her. What I did out there in the darkness of the club was just a reflection of the lust I felt for her, screaming out, desperate to be known. 

Then again, I wasn't the only participant; it takes two to tango, the last time I checked. She was the one who initiated the bout of foreplay (if that's what it was), I had only been a tag-along. But did this mean that she, too, was starved for a sensuous touch? Did she want me as much as I wanted her? Was she just playing a game, one that was quite typical of people like her?

Tomoyo was almost girdled in my arms at this point, as if we had unwittingly gravitated toward each other in the span of a few seconds. With another courageous move, I brought my face close to hers, sealing the air between us with my lips. This kiss was gentle, testing, delving out to see where the boundaries lay. She whimpered and moaned softly when I was about to pull away, which gave me more encouragement. I dove in for another kiss, this one teasing, taunting, where both she and I were fighting to prove something to the other. I could feel myself melting at her touch, hot despite the stinging cold. 

"That was... wow," She purred breathlessly when the air between us was completely depleted. She had the same look on as in the club, dark-eyed and flushed. I nodded, thinking something along those exact lines.

Tomoyo leaned her head to rest on the crook where my neck met my shoulder, sighing deeply. We stayed like that for a long, silent moment, each lost in our own thoughts, completely unaware of the cold and the night. I felt like another deal was sealed between us, or perhaps an understanding, though I couldn't determine what exactly it was. I still had random questions popping up in my mind, those I brushed off without a second thought. My suspicions were confirmed though, she had experienced the same passion-filled force as I.

"What do you want in life?" she asked me suddenly, still safe with her head nestled on my shoulder. I wondered how we got from kissing to life but I wasn't about to say anything. 

I thought about it. What did I want in life? Stableness, security, a bit of power to influence change. "I told you before, I want to get into politics. I want to establish myself in the world, I want to be known for centuries to come for something I had achieved on my own. I want the knowledge that I single-handedly was able to change something, to know that I wasn't another nameless number on a statistic. I want a stable future, though with enough risks to make it worthwhile. I want to wake at night and know that I'm safe at home, where I belong." 

"Is that _all_ you want in life?" She asked tentatively, as if prodding around the maw of a sleeping beast. 

"What do you mean?" A question for question, a game of hide and seek. 

Sighing exasperatingly, she said, "Have you ever thought about a family of your own? Of finding that one special someone and living somewhere nice and cozy with them? Children? A summerhouse in the Mediterranean and a little dog or cat for your kids to play with?... Love?" 

I looked at her for a long moment, savouring the things she said to me. Perhaps it was a reflection of her own expectations for the future. Or maybe an ideal cry for companionship. I mulled the thought over and then replied, "I don't believe in love. It is a vain game between two unlikely people. It's false and meaningless.

"There is no such thing as love anymore," I continued, " affection is shown through expensive and overly ostentatious toys. Children no longer ask for a mother's touch; computers, drugs and sex have replaced all that. And parents? They are fools. They think that love is complying with their children's' virtual 'gimme'. It's sad, really. But this is what change brought upon this world, and this way it shall remain, unless some idiot actually finds the guts to blow up the world. "

Tomoyo recoiled from me, appalled at my words, hurt that I dared to utter them. "That's not true!" She exclaimed, sounding both angry and lost. "Love exists everywhere around us! You are just too blind and too bitter to see it!" 

I remained silent, giving her the freedom to continue."What about the unbreakable bond the mother feels for her child? Husband for his wife? What about a kid and his puppy playing in the spring mud? Was that just a show of distant acknowledgement? Of course not. That's love. Perhaps you can't see it, after all, you're just the observer, seeing all but the real picture," she said with a glacial smile. "Haven't you ever experience that feeling one gets when tearing breathlessly into a present and then overflowing with joy at the sight of the useless trinket? Did you not feel loss of a loved one? When your mother and uncle died, did you feel nothing for them? You didn't cry or feel sorry for them?" She nearly screamed at me and I flinched at the reference to my family. "Whatever you might think about that, there are feelings behind those actions. There has to be. Maybe people don't know how to truly express love, but at least they feel it in their hearts. And isn't that what's important?" 

I listened carefully to every word she said, storing it at the back of my mind for a later time to mull on. Could she be speaking the truth? Was I mistaken? Yes, I had experienced the thrill of opening a present and unbearable pain when Mother passed away. I still remember the acrid sting in my heart when the doctor pulled me out of the room where my mother lay lifelessly, telling me that there was nothing else to see. Was that love? That twinge somewhere in my chest cavity, was that love? 

"Just because you're too afraid to let yourself live for once in your life. Just because you're afraid of getting hurt, you shrink away from all feeling." Tomoyo said quietly, morosely, turning her face away from my piercing eyes. She was moving away from my embrace, farther into the darkness of the night, and I felt almost painfully lost without her presence near me. "You think that all people are cruel, that all they want is to corrupt you, take you over to the dark side. Well, that isn't true." 

"What do you mean?" 

"If you just opened your eyes," I could hear a bit of panic, or maybe hysteria edging her voice, "just stop looking at the world as if it would consume you whole at any second, you would see that people _do_ care about you. Maybe you would even realize that there _is_ someone in this world that loves you wholeheartedly. Who would gladly give up everything for you, who would be happy as long as you're happy, and sad when you are..." 

"What are you trying to say?" I felt lost, as if I had been led into a labyrinth and forgot my way out. Did I miss something? Why was Tomoyo suddenly all so serious and brooding, I could swear I saw a frown dance upon her lips. 

Tomoyo looked at me for a long, heavy moment, as if deciding between two equally treacherous paths. I could feel her shrinking into the shadows of the building, but at this moment, I hadn't thought of coming closer. An almost audible laugh – or a choke – escaped her lips, before she screamed something at me and fled into the darkness. It was a moment before I realized the words she hollered at me and I impaled motionless with their force. 

"God dammit! I love you, Hiiragizawa Eriol!" She had cried out. 

* * * * * * * * 

Just so you know, I've never been kissed and have absolutely no idea how it would feel . Gah! I dun like this chappie... Too much ambiguousness in my opinion, though that was exactly what I was going for... That... felt too much like a soap opera. 


	11. Samba

A/N: I'm really sorry for the late posting. My best friend came over, I only get to see her once or twice a month because we go to different schools and are too busy for anything else, and I needed to help her with a personal problem. Well, I guess friendship comes first. And, yes darkangel, I have read your review (for ch.9) and I thank you for the warm sentiment, I completely agree with you.

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Chapter 11: Samba

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God dammit! I love you Hiiragizawa Eriol!

Her voice still rang in my head, words repeating until I memorized every nuance of her voice and the cadence of every syllable. Their impact on me was almost palpable, threatening me, overwhelming me. I didn't want to hear them; I wanted for her voice and eyes to disappear from my memory. No such luck; I could still remember every curve in her cheeks, the dip of her lip and the glow in her eyes. I could still feel her skin pressed against mine; I could still taste her sweetness on my tongue. She haunted me, my mind, my body.

I remember seeing her retreating form in the bitterness of the night, pale and radiant like a sliver of moonlight descended upon the earth, dancing just out of my reach. I could hear the echo of her shoes clicking against the pavement and the snow and the sound of those words reverberating off the walls and onto me. I just stood there, watching her run away from me, out of my life and I was too stupid and too slow to seize the chance that was granted me. 

"Hiiragizawa?" 

I voice breached my concentration and I instinctively looked up into the face of one of my classmates. I was sitting in my English Lit. class, pretending to be analysing _A Passage to India_, by E. M. Forster. Unwittingly, my thoughts had turned to Tomoyo... again, and I cursed myself for my weakness. This has been happening all too often as of late. It has been nearly two weeks since that night at the club, and I still couldn't get rid of my memories of her and that time. This... being too far from her, not seeing her smile or hearing her voice, was driving me insane. Without even realizing it, she had become the one drug that I needed to survive, the one thing I needed to live and breathe. 

"Yes, Touya?" I replied in a drone voice, forcing myself to remember the name of that particular classmate. It was fair-skinned youth with dark hair reaching to almost his shoulders and falling into his Cerulean eyes (1). I remember doing a project with him once upon a time. 

"Isn't this you?" Touya asked, pointing to a tabloid magazine in his hand. I glanced at the said newspaper and blanched. On the cover of the magazine, surrounded by flashy signs and phrases, was a picture of Tomoyo and myself. It was of us at the gala, freshly out of the limo and into the sea of reporters. I smiled almost wistfully at the bedazzled expression on my face, and then I saw Tomoyo and my heart sunk to the soles of my shoes. 

"Ano... no," I answered almost hastily, for some reason afraid to be caught at an awkward moment, "must be someone who just looks incredibly like me." 

Touya looked doubtful for a moment, deliberating the next course of action. I almost thought he would press me with more questions, but I was surprised with an accepting nod and a comforting almost-smile. "You're right, you must have a twin walking somewhere in this city." I couldn't help but feel relieved. 

I tuned out the monotonous voice of the teacher and looked out to the street outside the window. The trees were heavy with snow, gnarled branches scratching at the glass. The torrent clouds were furrowed together, pregnant with rain. It's almost as if the weather mimicked my mood; it has been doing that since this whole thing stated, I noted half-heartedly. 

I didn't know what to think anymore, and it suddenly dawned on me that I have forgotten to consider the consequences of this whole affair since the beginning, only when things seemed most complicated did I bother thinking about the impact they might have. I didn't think what would happen when I went to the interview with Tomoyo that first time in Chez Pierre's. I didn't think to stop myself from being pulled by her, from gravitating toward her sheer brilliance. And I certainly didn't think about the words spewing from my mouth, if I did, maybe Tomoyo would be by my side right now, not somewhere out there, too far from my reach. I shook my head, scrambling my thoughts. I didn't want to contemplate on it, I wanted to forget Tomoyo and everything that had to do with her. I didn't want to be walking in the streets and be reminded of how she enjoyed taking walks in the mornings, or how the sun would gleam off her hair and eyes. No, that was the last thing I wanted or needed. 

Before I knew it, it was the end of school, and I had to get home to feed Spinel Sun and work on my term paper. As I walked down the campus road, however, my feet suddenly gained a life of their own and led me wherever they wished to go. I passed a small park not too far from the dance studio where I had stolen a peek at a dancing Tomoyo. It brought back memories of her; I didn't even realize that I had so much to remember her by. I sat at a lonely bench, glancing at the stillness of a winter day. 

I heard muted laughter nearby and looked up in expectance, unintentionally seeing out Tomoyo amongst the trees. To my surprise, I saw Syaoran strolling with a petite blonde at his side. I recognized the girl as Sakura, the one person Syaoran had the misfortune of being smitten by. I had seen him moan and cry about that girl for a long time. What had changed? He looked happy, if anything, and that was a strange sight to behold. I had never seen my friend so much as smile, less of all outright laugh, and seeing him like this struck a chord within me. I was jealous of his happiness, envious that he was able to smile, to talk and just be with the one person he couldn't live without. 

I observed them for a long moment, letting my hair and spectacles conceal my gaze, not that they would notice, they had eyes only for each other. Again, like a great flood, Tomoyo's words came rushing to me. She had said that love was everywhere, in the very air that I breathed. She said that love was the greatest force on Earth, all-powerful and mighty. Looking back on it now and seeing the smile on Syaoran and Sakura's faces, I almost wanted to believe it. 

I felt tired, weary of everything. The air just seems to be escaping my throat with a greater difficulty, as if punishing me because of something I had unwittingly done. It seemed, oddly enough, as if somebody was writing out my life, playing with the strings of my emotions and purposely skewing my predicament for their own enjoyment. I didn't feel real, like I was a mere doll to play with. Or a doll whose only reason in life was to observe how his life got bamboozled over.

"Eriol? What are you doing here?" 

A voice behind me startled me, dispelling the momentary trance. I turned slightly in the bench and was surprised to find Syaoran, standing behind me, without his Sakura. "Eh? Oh... I just came here to think. It's easier to do that in the fresh air, you know?" I snorted mentally. That was lame, I sounded like a dork even to myself. 

Syaoran nodded in understanding. He motioned for me to walk with him and I obliged. "I haven't seen you lately. What hole had you burrowed yourself in?" He asked teasingly, which was another surprise for me. Syaoran? Make a joke?! That's as possible as me just croaking and falling over, dead on the spot! 

"Oh, I've been... around. I had a lot of things to think about. Hey, wasn't that Sakura with you just now? When did you finally come down from your mountain and confess to her?" I was all too eager to change the subject. 

Syaoran flushed profoundly, shuffling his feet in the still fresh snow. "... I thought about it for a long time," he said after a moment, staring at nothing in particular, "I thought about all the times I saw her and how she made me feel. I can't really explain what goes through me when she's close; I guess the only way to describe it is: love." 

Love? There is that word again. In the past twelve days (since the incident at the club) I had grown to both hate and swoon over that wretched word. 

"One time," Syaoran continued, completely missing what must have been a cringe on my face, I didn't mind though, it was rare to have him reveal too much personal information about himself, "Sakura went to visit her brother, Touya, back home in Tomoeda. She was gone for three weeks but I felt like it was forever. God, I can't tell you what was going through me at the time. I was going nearly insane. I tried to tell myself that she was nothing special, that she was just another girl among millions. I tried to forget her, to find someone else to be attracted to. That didn't do much, I just ended up spending thrice the amount of time thinking about her. It's like she had dug a hole in my heart and hid there to forever pester me." 

"What did you do about it?" I asked, all too curious to hear the answer. 

"Remember those parties I dragged you to?" he asked, grinning almost sly at me. "I went to those only because I thought that Sakura would attend. I was hoping to maybe see her in a different light and stop liking her. Oh, no. She only got more beautiful," He looked at the snow with an almost melancholy air. "I just couldn't stand it anymore. I hated seeing her with anybody else, I hated the thought of it. And the indecision was tearing me apart, you know? Like I was drowning and wasn't able to move to save myself. I wanted to seize the opportunity while it was still available to me. So... I just caught her after class one day and told her..."

"What did she do?" 

A cross between a smirk and a leer stretched on his face. "She tackle-kissed me. Ends up she had been infatuated with me from nearly the first moment we met but was too afraid to tell me. Oh, the irony! Almost makes me want to hit my head against something really hard for my stupidity." 

I smiled, too, though just a bit half-heartedly. Oddly enough, Syaoran's situation reminded me of my own. I, however, was still stuck in the stages of admitting the truth to myself. We talked for a bit more, mainly about nonsense. Before he left with a hasty apology, he told me that life would not wait for me, would not stay still while I tried to catch up to it, so I had to make the attempt to chase after it in return. I remember Tomoyo saying something along those lines. I thought about following that advice. 

What did I want in life? I thought I wanted power and security, but with Tomoyo gone, I had begun to see that I needed something else in life. Was that something love that everybody seemed to be seeking? What did love offer me? Companionship? The feeling of belonging, of_ rightness_? That zest for existence and the happiness with oneself? But, wasn't that what Tomoyo made me feel? I feel like a stone-faced hypocrite here. How can I be saying one thing, yet be secretly yearning for that same thing I refuted? While on one hand, I had sworn that love was a lie, Tomoyo had told me that the emotion is what I needed, and I believed her. How can that be? 

I heard distant music wafting down the streets; I hadn't even considered the time in my brooding; it was almost past nine. I had work the next day. Oddly enough, my thoughts turned to my boss (argh!) and the interview I was supposed to submit the following week. I paused in my stride, caught slightly off guard with that turn of thoughts. Since when have I stopped looking at Tomoyo as an object to be interviewed for the sole purpose of a pay check and started to think of her as the my one driving force? Since when had she invaded my body and mind completely and refused to let go? When had I let her? Syaoran had told me to seize chances when they knocked on my door. Tomoyo had offered me a chance for happiness, a chance to live. Did I dare to leave it be? 

I realized that without Tomoyo, my life was dull. After just a brief moment with her, I had gained so much lust for life, for her presence. I really did need her to survive, to be truly alive. 

Through her smiles, touches and eyes, she had shown me real pleasure and happiness, and I couldn't help but crave for more, starved for those sensation due to years in solitude. I suddenly wanted everything that she offered so willingly. I had wanted that same thing I witnessed on Sakura and Syaoran's faces, I wanted the same joy, the same glow as they had. 

I had wandered into my apartment close to midnight, surprisingly giddy, excitement bubbling in my stomach. Spinel Sun looked up at me from where he was curled near the shoe rack, blinking his large eyes wonderingly. If I didn't know any better, I would have sworn that he was shocked to see me so wound up after nearly two weeks (twelve point fifty-six days) on a depression binge. 

I leaned down and ruffled the soft fur on his head. He meowed in protest when I picked him up and carried him with me to the couch. "You know what?" I asked him in uncharacteristically cooing voice. "I had just made a lifesaving decision."

(tbc...?)

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(1) Touya Akira from _Hiraku no Go_ ^^;;;

Eriol didn't quite make the connection between Syaoran's Sakura and Tomoyo's Sakura because the lovebirds were too far away and because the pictures of her he'd seen in Tomoyo's apartment were _very _old. Ehehe...


	12. Viennese Waltz

A/N: Oh my Gosh! I can't believe that it's actually over! I seriously can't believe it. Wow, I'm almost breathless. It's going to be sad for me to see this fic go... but at least I finished something. Also, I don't own this song, I just felt obliged to post it because it shares my story's title. 

Oh, little note, to all ya ExT writers out there, Fairytales is a very nice site run by Megori-chan. The site features ExT fanfics. If anyone of you is interested in posting your stories, I'm sure the hostess would be very happy *nod nod* 

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Chapter 12: Viennese Waltz

Escucha el ritmo de tu corazon 

From the coast of Ipanema 

To the Island of Capri 

All the way to Kuala Lumpur 

I will follow you wherever you may be 

I woke up to Spinel Sun pawing annoyingly at the corner of the bed, meowing softly. A faint stream of sunshine surged through the open window. I mentally cursed; I had forgotten to pull down the blinds during the night. I looked to the digital clock beside my bed, the red digits were proclaiming that is was 7:15 a.m.. I nearly groaned and contemplated to just turning over, digging my head underneath my pillow and returning back to sleep. Not only was it an un-Godly hour of the morning, it was also the one day that I was allowed to sleep in. 

Instead, I turned to the window and looked out to the smiling sun (though not directly, that hurts, you know). It was the day after Christmas. Last night it had snowed, covering the ground with a fine layer of white. I smiled at the sunlight, drawing the blankets closer around myself. I had almost forgotten what a real smile was. Tomoyo had changed that. 

It's strange. Tomoyo has changed me, completely transformed me, and I didn't even mind. I became a better person without even realizing it. I laughed and cried, I no longer cared about what people thought of me, just as long as I was being myself and not a walking, talking lie. She had taught me to love, showed me that loving was not a crime but a beautiful, glorious feeling. She flaunted her freedom, her passion for life and by doing that taught me to love freedom as well. 

I smiled at that, and at the implications of a new day and what things it brought. Spinel Sun came in again, this time more insistent, jumping up on the bed and looking straight at me. I sighed, though not minding the distraction, and petted the little fluff ball. 

"What are you up to today?" 

Meow. 

Of course, I shouldn't have expected a _cat_ to reply to me. Oh well, all good things must have an end. I abandoned my warm bed, though not without some complaining from my still sleeping limbs, and fed Spinel. After, I took a long luxurious shower, savouring the feel of the warm waters smoothing out the tension from my back muscles. I hadn't had the opportunity to enjoy such simple things lately, and before I even realized it, I was missing them. I guess that's another thing that Tomoyo had done for me. She had taught me how to enjoy the little things, not the things people usually dismiss because they are too big for them to handle, but idle things like fresh dew on leaves and the warm water taking away a night's weariness. 

The thought of Tomoyo brought another smile to my face, and I didn't even bother to wash it away with the water. I was going to see her today, _finally, _after such a long time without her. In the weeks (it seemed like years) since last I saw her, I felt like I was going through serious withdrawal and failing miserably. I needed her to sustain myself, like a flower needed sunlight and earth to grow. 

__

From the moment, I first saw you 

Knew my heart could not be free 

Had to hold you in my arms 

There can never be another for me 

Later that morning, after a leisurely breakfast and some television, I set off for my destination. I walked down the frozen streets, admiring the play of lights against the fresh snow and the frosted glass in car windows. The atmosphere was serene, happy almost, as if heralding a new beginning, or perhaps an overdue end to a long story. I could barely believe that just a couple of days ago the weather was frothing and churning in expectance of a storm. I could barely believe that a couple of days ago I was seriously considering celibacy.

I passed a small bakery on my way. It was just opening, the scent of freshly-out-of-the-oven pastries wafting to the streets. With a little shrug, I wandered in and treated myself to a nice chocolate-coated strudel, just because. I've decided that I wouldn't look to tomorrow for guidance; that I would accept things as they are and be happy with them. Why bother to be always thinking of the future when you live in the present? What's the point of measuring your life in teaspoons if the next moment could be your last? Treasure what you have now. 

I had reached an archaic-looking building, large arched windows facing the street. The steps leading to the entrance were surprisingly empty, I had expected to see a horde of people milling about. With apprehensiongnawing on my stomach, I wondered if I was late. I took out the crumpled brochure from my coat pocket, completely ignoring the small box also hidden within the folds of the pocket. The brochure said that the recital would start at precisely noon. The digits on my wristwatch told me it was nearly thirty after. Panicking, I forced open the heavy ornate doors of the building and rushed in. 

A couple of nights ago, after a lengthy and meaningful conversation with Syaoran, I had stumbled on an announcement post. I wouldn't have noticed it, had it not had Tomoyo's name in bright, bold letters. The ad announced that the local concert hall would hold a special Christmas performance of the Nutcracker; Tomoyo was Clara. Since then, the gears in my head had been working overtime. I came here today in hopes of talking to her, though I was afraid that she would reject me coldly. Now I was afraid that I would miss her breakthrough performance; the thought was almost horrifying now. 

All I need is 

THE RHYTHM DIVINE 

Lost in the music 

Your heart will be mine 

All I need is to look in your eyes 

Viva la musica 

Say you'll be mine

I stealthily made my way to the back of the concert hall, making sure not to attract too much attention. The seats were packed; the sidelines and the back were also crowded with people. I chose a spot from which the entire stage would be accessible to me and settled in to watch. The show itself was rather long but I did not notice the time pass by because all my attention was diverted to Tomoyo on the platform. She completely dominated the stage, ruled the audience and other performers like a beseeching queen. I was completely enthralled. 

Before I realized it, the performance was coming to a draw. The curtains were parting for the dance of the Sugar Plum Princess, the stage lights were dimmed, one beam, however, was focussed on a solitary figure in sparkling blue. My breath caught in my throat as I watched Tomoyo descend the make-believe stairs and freeze into a delicate pose. She seemed ethereal, as if freshly plucked from a dream. She pirouetted, and pranced, a creature from a fairy tale, too entrancing to belong to the real world. I watched her lithe body sway to the beat of the lilting music, and I was once again reminded of just how beautiful she was. I would have compared her to a Greek goddess – Aphrodite or maybe Daphne – but I felt inadequate, as if Tomoyo was perfection personified, too beautiful to be compared with a mere myth.

I watched the rest of the show with almost apprehension, too afraid of what the end of the dance implied yet mesmerized into stillness. When the recital ended, I applauded along with the rest of the audience as the dancers graced the stage for one last time. It might have been just me, but it still seemed as if Tomoyo had prevailed over the crowd. 

Can you feel the heat of passion 

Can you taste our love's sweet wine 

Join the dance and let it happen 

Put tomorrow's cares right out of your mind 

As the music draws you closer 

And you fall under my spell 

I will catch you in my arms now 

Where the night can take us no can tell

I was standing outside the concert hall half an hour later. The audience had dissipated a long time ago, so I was left alone, waiting for what seemed like the end of the world. The muscles in my stomach were knotting together, and I could feel the giddiness in my knees. Some of the performers were filing out of the building, and I knew that it was just a matter of time before Tomoyo, too, would come out. 

The doors opened slowly with an almost ominous creak. I bit my lip and watched, breathless, as Tomoyo walked down the steps toward me. It was as if time had frozen. I could physically feel her eyes catch mine, pulling me inside their depths. She seemed hesitant for a moment, afraid and nervous at the same time. With careful, indecisive steps, she made her way toward me, as did I. We met somewhere in-between. 

"Hi," we said in unison. I could feel myself flush with embarrassment, I didn't even know how to address her. An uncomfortable silence settled between us. 

"Look, what are you doing here?" She asked, sounding vexed. 

"I just have a couple of questions to ask of you – for the interview. Will you come with me?" I asked, wary of the coldness in her voice. 

Tomoyo looked at me sceptically, measuring up her chances of just pretending I wasn't there. With a sigh, she followed me. I could tell she was as apprehensive about our meeting as I. I couldn't blame her, though. Not after the things I said to her that night. We were walking along the unusually empty street, taking in the crisp air. 

"What is it you wanted to ask of me?" she questioned, breaking the tenseness that sunk between us, though she kept her eyes firmly on the ground. 

"Well, for starters," I began, trying my darnedest to sound casual, hiding behind my trusty notebook and pencil, "what are you looking for in a man?" 

Tomoyo blanched and, startled, looked up to me with wide eyes. "What are you asking?" 

"I guess you have no idea how many of your male fans would die for a chance with you," I said tonelessly, adjusting the bridge of my glasses in a studious manner. "In fact, many people had mailed my company, asking what you are seeking in a male companion. Surely you wouldn't want to disappoint your adoring audience?" I smirked at her challengingly, and watched her squirm under my scrutiny.

__

All I need is 

THE RHYTHM DIVINE 

Lost in the music 

Your heart will be mine 

All I need is the look in your eyes

Viva la musica 

Say you'll be mine

"I had never considered just looking for a mate," she replied with a competitive grin of her own. "It has always been my philosophy to not look, because inevitably he would find me."

"Then when do you know that the right one has come?" The smirk from my face had disappeared as I gazed intently into her never-ending eyes, suddenly finding myself all alone with her in the all-too-big world. 

She, too, was absorbed in my stare, looking up at me daringly almost. "I know that it is the right one when I feel comfortable with that person. When he is able to sooth away a day's weariness, and kiss away my unhappiness. When he can make me feel alive within myself, when he can stimulate me with a single word or touch. I know, that when he smiles, it's just for me and that whenever he does smile, he thinks me the most beautiful woman alive. When he is not afraid to give me his heart, to show me his real self."

"What about love, then?" 

"Since when have you changed your mind? I thought you abhorred love and anything that had to do with it?" She asked mockingly. I nearly flinched at the jeer in her voice. True, I had most likely deserved it. 

I shrugged and turned my gaze slightly away. "I thought about what you said, and came to the conclusion that maybe it does exist..."

"I see," she murmured. "To answer your question... Eriol, –" I could tell that she was a bit uncomfortable with using my first name "– I do not know how to describe to you the feeling you get when you're in love. I just know, with my heart and my soul that what I'm feeling for this man is truly love. It's the most exhilarating, the most painful and heart wrenchingly sweet feeling in the entire world."

The tenseness around us had dissolved, the barriers that both she and I erected were thrown off, to be replaced with the same familiarity as the one on that fateful night. 

"All right then," I replied, pretending to jot something in my notebook. 

"Is that all then?" She asked, a bit confused. 

I smiled for the umpteenth time that day. I didn't care anymore who caught my smile, as long as I was smiling and she was there to receive the gesture. I glanced almost coyly, teasingly at her. 

"Actually, no."

She watched me with curiosity shining in her eyes as I dug into my pocket. I removed the wrinkled brochure, I didn't need it anymore, instead my fingers curled around the small box also hidden in the pocket. I ignored the jolt of nervousness playing in my stomach, and presented the treasure out to her. 

"What's this?" 

"Just a late Christmas present," I replied with another smile, placing the box in the middle of her delicate palm. 

"But I hadn't gotten you anything."

"That doesn't matter," I said with a careless shrug, "I already received all my presents." I let the sentence trail off, leaving her to ponder the meaning. 

"Open it." 

Gotta have this feeling forever 

Gotta live this moment together 

Nothing else matters 

Just you and the night 

Follow on the wings of desire 

Now the rhythm is taking you higher 

No one can stop us from havin' it all

Tomoyo glanced at the box. I was bouncing nervously on the balls of my feet, ready to bolt at any second. I was afraid of what she would think. That I was too forward? Too clichéd? She made no sound as she inspected her present and I began to chew on my bottom lip in worry. Then suddenly, she smiled up at me, and I could swear I nearly went blind. She was so beautiful, it was almost painful to witness. 

I had no more doubts in my heart as she dropped the box to the ground and rushed into my arms like an avalanche. I could hear her whispering my name over and over again as she crushed her face onto my chest. Startled, I realized that she was crying. 

"Why the tears?" I asked softly, titling her tear-stained face toward the light. It nearly broke my heart to see her so fragile-like and broken. 

She forced back a whimper and smiled up at me again. "It's nothing. It's silly," Tomoyo replied with a shake of her head. 

"What is it?" 

"I'm just so happy."

"So am I," I replied, and with a grin I lowered my head and stole a kiss. Tomoyo leaned into the kiss, returning it in earnest. She smiled into my lips, though the flow of tears did not abate. Tomoyo is just like a force of nature. One way this instance, another in that. I was glad for that, though. I loved her for just the way she was, with all her eccentricity and flaws; they truly made her perfect. I felt Tomoyo shift slightly in my arms, moulding her body to fit mine wholly. I'm not claiming to be an overly romantic person, nor have I ever thought myself of actually doing something as sappy as this, but even I have my limits. I, too, recognize a good thing when I see it. And right now, I was holding it in my arms, claiming her as mine for the entire world to see. The connection between us was magnetic, it made my heart swell and sing along with the Sunday chimes. I was ready to spend a lifetime – and more– like this. 

You are my heart......you are my soul 

All I need is THE RHYTHM DIVINE 

Lost in the music 

Your heart will be mine 

All I need is the look in your eyes 

Viva la muscia 

Say you'll be mine 

Off to the side, as if forgotten among the snow, or left there on purpose, lay a small velveteen box. It was an ordinary looking box,the corners were slightly rounded to look more elegant, the velvet was a rich purple, rival only to the colour of midnight. It was also open, letting the bright sunshine spill into its contents. Inside, nestled in a satiny slot lay a small, crystalline heart. If anyone had bothered to pay attention, they would have been awed at the magnificent foreplay of lights. And if anyone had really been a meticulous person, they would have probably noticed the small writing on the side of the crystalline heart. In small, delicate letters, were written two simple words, and, simple as they were, they brought a twinge of happiness to the owner of such a present. 

__

"My Heart..."

Can you feel the rhythm? 

Can you feel the rhythm? 

Can you feel the rhythm? 

Burning .....Burning

~Finis 

* * * * * * * * * 

Ending notes: Overall, I am not too pleased with this story. I had a lot of improvising, had a lot of corners turned. I originally wanted this story to be an intellectual, philosophical look into Tomoyo and Eriol's character (or was that the second take on the story???). I think I achieved some of that by _this_ story, though not the full extent, and I'm sincerely bummed about that. I am, however, glad that so many of you had enjoyed this lil' thing o' mine. And though I cannot thank every one of the people who reviewed individually, believe me, I appreciate it very much. I loves you peoples!

Merci si beaucoup de pour lire mon histoire! J'espère vous voir la prochaine fois! Adieu! 


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